Like A River Runs
by buttercup1987
Summary: 'When I fall asleep, I still see your face. What I lost in you, I will not replace.' Lady Mirawen of Gondor is no stranger to loss, so when her brother ventures off to Rivendell at the request of their father, and she dreams of his lifeless body floating down the Anduin River in a white boat, she follows after him.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE PT. 1  
** _(Author's Note at the bottom)_

Staring down at the tiny infant nestled against her bosom, wrapped in furs and drinking greedily from her breast, her heart felt full again. After the birth of her second child she had grown ill with fever, and was bedridden for three months, unable to nurse her newborn son or chase her five-year old down the halls. Those three months she had desperatey longed to roam the city once again, feel the sun on her face, her husband's embrace, and the slobbery wet kisses of her children. She willed herself to get better, and slowly, over time her fever broke and she started to feel herself again.

It remained a mystery what caused her fever, and the healers whispered amongst themselves how it was a miracle that she was well again, for surely this illness should have taken her life. She had fully embraced this miracle, and saw things with a whole new perspective; she enjoyed running her fingertips along the walls of smooth marble as she walked the halls. She savoured the feel of the sun on her face with a newfound appreciation, and found comfort in the smell of the old books in the Citadel library.

Two years went by, and she remained healthy and happy, but deep down she felt something was missing. Her eldest began his training with the Master-at-Arms now that he was old enough to learn the skills required to become a soldier of Gondor. Balancing her toddler on her hip she would often watch him swing his wooden training sword with skill, his young brows furrowed as he focused on hitting all the marks on the practice dummy in front of him.

"Your brother is going to be a great warrior." She cooed to her youngest son, tickling his nose, he giggled. "As will you one day my little love."

She was proud of her sons; her eldest, Boromir, already showed such promise at seven years old. He was tall for his age, and kept up with some of the older boys who had begun their training several years before him. He was strong, moved quickly, and he was smart, he was being conditioned to become a great soldier and a fierce leader, for one day he would take his fathers place as Steward. He began spending more time at Denethor's side; when he wasn't in the training yard, he would accompany his father during his daily tasks. Yes, Boromir would make a wonderful leader one day.

Faramir, her younger of the two, had a sense of wonder about him, and she knew he would be more sensitive than his older brother. At two years old, he developed a keen interest in books and stories, though he couldn't read quite yet, his eyes would light up at the illustrations and he would hang onto every word of the fables his mother would read him. He was intelligent for his age, picking up on things most toddlers would not, he focused on everything happening around him, trying to figure out how everything worked, he was ever the curious one.

She knew that one day he and his brother would lean heavily on one another, where Boromir was like to jump in head first, she knew Faramir would keep him grounded and help him slow down and see the bigger picture. She loved her boys, but in her heart knew she wanted another child, that was what was missing. Her and the Steward tried, for two more years, unsuccessfully. It was suspected that her illness after Faramir's birth had left her barren, unable to conceive another child. She was saddened by this, but came to accept it and life in Minas Tirith went on.

Lord Denethor was loathe to see his wife so heavy hearted, and in turn this caused him to feel disdain towards his younger son, for he blamed the boy for causing his beautiful wife to fall ill in the first place. He turned his energy and attention towards Boromir, who was now almost 10 years of age and showing much promise. As the years went by, he was harder on the young Faramir, pushing him to focus more on the histories of Middle Earth, instead of wasting his time with fairy tales. He tried to hide his favouritism towards his elder son for his wife's sake, but she noticed the different ways he treated them, this caused her to become more protective of Faramir.

The year Faramir started his training in the grounds with Berin, their new arms master, Lady Finduilas fell ill again. Unable to keep down any of her meals, and suffering hot flashes in the night, a concerned Denethor brought in Ioreth, a wise healer from Lossanarch, to tend to her.

Denethor remained at Finduilas' bedside while the middle-aged woman examined her. Pressing her hands against the lady's abdomen she furrowed her brow and pressed harder into her sides and feeling along the abdomen walls. With a worried expression, Denethor reached for his wife's hand.

"What is it?" he nervously asked, leaning closer to his wife. He was terrifed to hear bad news, he had already lost her once and could not bear the thought of losing her again.

Ioreth removed her hands from Lady Finduilas and simply smiled at the Steward and Stewardess. "Milord, Milady, there is nothing to worry about here. These are merely symptoms, it is to be expected. You are with child."

At the news Finduilas began to weep happy tears, while Denethor felt a sense of relief. This was not supposed to happen to them, she was supposed to be barren, her fever was supposed to have taken this away from her. It was a miracle; her illness vanishing, and this, this too was a miracle. Denethor thanked Ioreth, and offered her a permanent position as a healer in Minas Tirith, with the condition that his wife would be her number one priority until this babe was born. She of course agreed, and tended to Lady Finduilas as her belly grew bigger and the weeks and months passed by.

It was always in the back of her mind that she would grow sick again once the child was born, but for the time being she did not bother herself with worry. She knew in her heart that she was meant to have this child, and so she cherished every moment of this pregnancy. She spent more time in the gardens, enjoying the fragrance of the spring flowers and the cool breeze against her skin. She would watch her son's train while absentmindedly stroking her belly.

One day, while walking Faramir to his lessons, she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen, it went away, but came back stronger. The third time the wave of pain came, she felt a wetness between her legs and stumbled, bracing her hands against the wall for support.

"What is it mama?" a worried Faramir asked, squeezing his mothers hand.

"Faramir." Finduilas looked down at her son, and spoke calmly, so as not to frighten her sensitive boy. "Do not fret, my love, it seems this baby wants to come out sooner than we anticipated. I need you to go find help now, I will not be able to get to the birthing chamber on my own. Go now, I will be fine here."

He nodded at his mother and scurried off to find the nearest person to help his mother. "...and please tell someone to fetch Ioreth! The babe is coming." She called after him.

He quickly found two Citadel guards, and brought one to his mother's aid, while the other ran off to fetch Ioreth. Once he and the guard got Lady Finduilas settled in the birthing bed, it wasn't long before Ioreth arrived. She quickly gathered her supplies and shooed away the guards, instructing them to inform the Steward that his wife was in labor.

"Go now, little lord. The birthing room is no place for men, or young boys." Ioreth uttered, not looking up at him as she unravelled her medical bag. His mother groaned as another wave a pain washed over her, and he remained in his place, not wanting to leave her side.

Ioreth paused, then got up and kneeled before him, so that she was at his level. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder she reassured him. "Do not worry Lord Faramir. I will not allow anything to happen to your mother or the babe. Childbirth is a painful thing indeed, but I have brought many-a-child into this world, and your mother is a strong lady. She will be just fine. It is a good thing that you were there by her side, you got her here just in time." He smiled at her then, feeling proud that he had helped his mother, and nodded his head at Ioreth, feeling confident that his mother was in good hands. "Go to your father now, I will send someone to inform you all when the baby arrives and your mother is well-rested."

He placed a kiss on his mother's forehead, who squeezed his hand in return and smiled up at him. " _I love you."_ she mouthed, right before another contraction hit her, and he ran off to find his brother and father.

It wasn't until several hours later that a squire arrived where Lord Denethor and his sons waited anxiously, with the news that the Lady Finduilas had just given birth to a healthy baby girl, and the two of them were resting. Lord Denethor rushed to be at his wife's side, while the two young boys were instructed to wait for someone to fetch them at a later time.

She was a beautiful babe, with chubby pink cheeks, and a thick head of golden hair on top of her head. She squeezed her mother's fingers while she nursed, clearly enjoying her first meal as any newborn babe would.

"She has a strong grip." Finduilas gushed, looking up at her husband who was now at her bedside. She was exhausted, but had a newfound energy as she held onto her baby's tiny hand. She moved the furs away from the girl's face, so her father could get a better look.

"She is beautiful, she has your likeness."

"It is too soon to tell that, my love." Finduilas chuckled.

"What shall we name her?" he wondered aloud, placing a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder.

"I have not thought of one for her just yet." she stated, re-adjusting her daughter against her breast when the babe let out a cry.

They sat there staring down in awe at their newborn daughter, their miracle child, as the babe continued to nurse until she eventually fell asleep. With help from Denethor, Finduilas sat up in her bed, just as Ioreth brought in her two sons, both eager to meet their new baby sister.

A 13-year old Boromir, and 8-year old Faramir stood nervously at the end of the bed, unsure of what to do next. Neither had been around infants much in their lives, as Boromir was only 5 at the time of Faramir's birth, he did not remember much.

Finduilas gestured for her boys to come closer to her side. "Come, my loves." The two brothers slowly made way to their mother's side, opposite of Denethor. She repositioned the bundle of fur that rested against her shoulder so that it was now cradled in her arms, and pushed aside the part of the fur blanket covering the babes face, so that her son's could see.

"Come meet your new sister…" she smiled. " _Mirawen._ "

 **Author's Note:** _This is my first ever fanfic, I was hesitant to start writing this, but after rewatching the films again, I felt inspired, and this story was something I thought about frequently (as I'm sure is the origin story of many a fanfic) So, in need of some sort of creative outlet and to write my ideas down, here I am. Now, Tolkien's world is a BIG one to tackle, and by no means will this version be exact to his wonderful creation. This story will be mainly movie-verse but slightly AU, I've taken some time to research certain facts as well so that it takes some elements from what was left out of Peter Jackson's film trilogy. It's been a VERY long time since I've read the books, so if you're looking for a storyline that follows the book-verse this won't be it. I don't own any of Tolkien's characters, so far I just own my OFC Mirawen (and any other OC's I introduce along the way) who I am going to try, try, try my hardest_ _to NOT be a mary-sue, so I welcome any respectful criticism if she comes close._

 _**Song in the title/lyrics from summary belong to the band Bleachers "Like a River Runs"_

 _**Mirawen (pronounced MEERA-WHEN) Mira means 'Wonder' in Latin, -wen is a feminine suffix in Gondor (or so I read somewhere), and I thought it sounded nice with Boromir, and Faramir, and show that they were all siblings.  
**Mirawen is 13 years younger than Boromir, as Boromir is around 40 at the events of FOTR, that will make her 28 when we get there.  
Anywho, I apologize for the long Author's note, they won't all be like this I promise! I hope you enjoy this story._

 _-Buttercup (yes, I am a big Princess Bride fan, so there may be some references along the way.)_


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** _I do not own any of the characters created by the wonderful J.R.R Tolkien. I only own Mirawen._

 **5 Year Old** **Mirawen**

"Mira, get back here!" taunted Boromir chasing his spirited little sister down the hall. He could hear her giggles, and her little footsteps tapping against the hard marble floors. To his left he heard a door creak open and shut, he turned to follow the sound and he soon found himself before his father's study.

' _Typical_.' He thought to himself with a smirk. It was her usual hiding spot, but he played along with her games and pretended to be oblivious anyways, much to his sister's delight. Outside the large oak door, he hummed and hawed, before slowly opening the door and peaking inside the room.

He could tell at first glance his father, Lord Denethor, had been in here recently, the fire that had been burning in the hearth was now just smoke and ember. There were books that remained opened and scrolls of paper with scrawls of fresh ink left to dry atop his dark mahogany desk. Orc activity had been picking up on the outskirts of the city as of late, he could only assume his father was writing to Gondor's several provinces, and summoning their soldiers to Minas Tirith to help with the defences.

Scanning the study, Boromir could see his shadow dancing across the walls and ceiling, thanks to the lone candle casting a warm glow from atop his father's desk. Slowly, he entered the room and shut the door behind him.

"Oh my dear Mira, I fear mother will never forgive me for losing you right before your lessons! Are you in here?" he playfully called out.

When he heard a muffled giggle coming from the far corner of the room, he let out a mock exasperated sigh, then opened and closed the door once more as if he were exiting. Hoping she would appear from her hiding spot he tiptoed across the room and quietly positioned himself behind the shelf of old maps and books so that he could jump out at her when she passed him. He waited several breaths but the young Mirawen remained hidden in her place, not falling for his trick.

' _She is getting smarter_.' Boromir smiled. He enjoyed these little moments with his young sister. At eighteen-years of age, his responsibilities were a great deal more than they had been years ago. He knew with the increased Orc attacks it would not be long before he was sent out to help defend the River Anduin.

His free time was less and less as of late, and Mirawen would only be little for so long, so he savoured as much of her childlike wonder as he could, before he was called to duty. Though defending his country was what he had been preparing for his entire upbringing, he knew he would miss seeing his sister's bright toothless grin everyday. Her innocence made him forget, if just for a few short moments in time, what went on past Gondor's borders.

Ever so quietly, he stepped forward, trying his hardest not to make a sound, his eyes wandered the room until he could see the dark outline of her forest green skirt peeking out from underneath the large desk. He got down on all fours and lay his head on the ground right beside her head full of copper waves. Though the light provided from the candle was little, he could still see that she had her eyes closed shut and her hands were covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter.

"There you are." He announced his presence and startled, her eyes opened. He caught a glimpse of her green orbs before she retreated backwards from underneath their father's desk. She moved quickly, but he was much quicker and managed to scoop her up as she tried to make for the door.

"BOR-MIR!" She squealed, kicking her legs in between a fit of giggles.

"I found you." He smiled at her, her green eyes shone like emerald's in the candlelight and his heart warmed. She hugged her arms around his neck and rested her head on his strong shoulder. "Now let's get you to your lessons, you are already late. You know how old Golunir gets when you are not on time."

With a raised eyebrow he looked down at Mirawen who, upon hearing the name of her tutor looked up at Boromir with wide eyes. She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, giggling as the hairs from his beard tickled her soft skin, before jumping out of his arms and running off in the direction of the sibling's study room.

Golunir was a wise old scholar, who had been both his and his younger brother Faramir's tutor before her. Anything you could think of to ask about the history of Middle Earth he could tell you, if it were not for his Gondorian heritage, one might mistake him as a member of the wizards' guild. He had been teaching the noble families of Gondor for over fifty years and showed no signs of slowing down, however, his latest pupil was the free-spirited daughter of the Steward, and she just might be the one to do him in.

As he followed after his younger sister to make sure she arrived at her lessons, he reflected on how such a young little lady had such a big personality. She was a curious, stubborn, feisty little spitfire, and she had him wrapped around her little finger. He knew she would grow up to be a strong woman who would most certainly be able to take care of herself, he also knew he would always be protective of her whether she liked it or not.

Rounding the corner she entered his line of sight again, a sea of copper waves dancing behind her as she ran as quickly as her five year old feet could take her. The soles of her brown leather boots tapping on the ground with each step she took, she held tightly onto her green skirts so she would not stumble as she ran. He could see their father, Lord Denethor, walking towards them, his fur-lined cloak the colour of dark stone dragging on the ground behind him. Mirawen, upon seeing her father changed her course, and running towards him she squealed, "Papa! Papa!"

Leaping from the ground, Lord Denethor caught her in his arms. "Young lady, what are you doing running through the halls like a wild horse? You should be in your lessons now should you not?" He exclaimed lightheartedly, gently placing Mirawen back on the ground.

"Papa, Bor-mir and I were just playing, he's taking me there now." She said sheepishly, her hands clasped behind her back.

Their father stared down at her, appearing deep in thought. "You were hiding from him again, in my study?" He inquired, to which Mirawen nodded.

"I did not touch anything Papa, I promise! Your study room has the best hiding spots, and I really thought Bor-mir would not find me this time!" She protested.

"Well, from the looks of your brother I would say you gave him quite the chase." He placed his arm on his daughters shoulder and together the started walking in the direction of her classroom. "Come now child, after your lesson I will show you where the best hiding spots are, next time he will have a much harder time finding you." Looking back at her older brother, she gave him a cheeky grin.

He turned to Boromir and gestured for him to follow them. Lord Denethor was an intimidating man, he was an excellent strategist and was once a great warrior before replacing his father as Steward. Boromir admired his father greatly and aspired to be as great a warrior and leader as he was. Yet, intimidating as he was to the outside eye, he held a soft spot for his little girl. Though Mirawen was likely to blame for the strands of silver appearing in their father's dark locks, she managed to charm him effortlessly, whether she was trying to get herself out of trouble or get something she desired, she could always win him over.

Boromir followed them until they arrived outside the lesson room. The door opened swiftly, revealing the old Golunir; his hair was coarse and grey except for the shiny round patch of skin on top of his head. Looking disgruntled he waved his finger at Mirawen, his mouth opened to say something, but no words came out when he noticed Lord Denethor.

"Ah, Lord Denethor, how good to see you." He greeted the Steward, bowing his head, his tone was pleasant and his demeanour changed. "I was not aware you would be escorting Lady Mirawen to her lesson today."

"Yes, she was busy assisting me in organizing the books in my study this morning. I lost track of the time, I assure you she will not be late again." He looked down at his daughter with an eyebrow raised, while she stood there with a big smile on her little face.

"Ah, yes, I see, it is no trouble at all my Lord." The old scholar sputtered out in reply.

Nodding at him, he turned again to Mirawen and said "Off you go young Lady, we have kept poor Golunir waiting long enough. I will see you at supper." He patted her back and smiled as she skipped into the classroom behind her tutor. Before the door closed all the way she turned to Boromir and waved, to which he happily returned.

Lord Denethor turned to his eldest son, gesturing for him to follow, he started walking down the hall. "Come Boromir, I have been looking for you. We have much to discuss."

Swallowing the lump in his throat he followed his father down the hall into the war room. It was an open area, with a large window that overlooked the courtyard. There was a large bookshelf containing maps, and log books, that ran the length of the far wall. The shelves were stock full of maps of Middle Earth, and of all its individual countries, including Gondor.

His father gestured for Boromir to follow him to the table in the centre of the room where an open map of Gondor lay, held down by smooth stone paper weights. His father's brow was furrowed and in the natural light Boromir could see the dark circles under his eyes, and the wrinkles that had not been there previously, the toll the constant attacks from the Orcs residing in Mordor had on him now showing.

"Our scouts from the Southern Ithilien outpost have reported sightings of a large band of Orcs heading North, following the Harad Road" His father stated, frowning, his finger traced the map down the Anduin river. "Orcs are reported leaving through the Black Gate of Mordor more and more each week. If they cross the river and breach Osgiliath, they will leech their way into Gondor and beyond."

"Can we not stop them in the fields of Pelennor if that happens?" Boromir questioned.

"We could, but I will not risk that. We must defend the bridge connecting Osgiliath to Ithilien at all costs. It is our duty to protect Gondor, and defend Middle Earth from Mordor's forces. We must hold them at bay." He sighed, turning to his son and placing a hand on his shoulder. "It is time Boromir, you are ready."

Boromir nodded, this is the moment all his training had lead up to, he felt ready.

"When will you have me leave father?" He asked the Steward.

"A company leaves for Osgiliath at dawn. You will meet Madril there, he has been stationed there for some time, and he will debrief you." He handed Boromir a sealed scroll, "Please give this to him when you arrive."

Boromir took the scroll from Lord Denethor, "I will do my best to honor you, father." His father smiled and embraced him in a hug.

"I have no doubt you will my son."

Boromir bowed his head and made to leave the war room, his father following after him.

"Madril was my second-in-command in my days as Captain, you have much to learn from him. You will be Captain one day Boromir, follow his lead and you will make a great leader." Denethor explained as they walked together.

They walked the remainder of the hallway in a comfortable silence, saying their farewells when Boromir reached his chambers. He had little time, and much to prepare, he wanted to pack his things as quick as possible, so he could spend his last evening in Minas Tirith with his family. Saying goodbye to his two younger siblings would prove to be his hardest task yet.

 **Author's Note 2.0:  
** _I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know it is a long one. There will be a few more chapters like this one chronicling Mira's younger years and showcasing her relationship with her family before we dive into the events of FOTR and beyond. I know Lord Denethor may seem slightly OOC in the coming chapters, but I like to think once upon a time he was a strong leader and loving father/husband prior to his wife's death. In the book-verse I believe Finduilas died when Boromir and Faramir were 10 and 5 respectively, but I've changed that timeline to suit this story, so don't worry we will eventually see Denethor as we know him._

 _Until next time!_

 _-Buttercup_


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** _I do not own anyone, only Mirawen._ ****

 **7 year old Mirawen**

Staring into the looking glass in front of her, Mirawen's eyes travelled up to where she could see the reflection of her mother, her long auburn curls cascading down past her shoulders and resting at her waist. Lady Finduilas was in deep concentration as she brushed her daughter's hair and fashioned a braid on each side of her crown, her fingers moved quickly as she effortlessly worked the hair into twists.

"How did you learn to do hair like that mother?" Mirawen inquired.

Lady Finduilas smiled, her daughter was ever the curious one, she had a question for everything, much like her brother Faramir did when he was younger.

"My mother taught me, and she had learned from her handmaiden." She answered as she connected the two braids in the center, letting the rest of her daughter's copper red hair fall down in waves. "She wanted to be independent, and she taught me at a young age that even us women of the court should learn to think and do things for ourselves."

Mirawen studied her mother for a moment, she was a beautiful woman. Her reddish curls contrasted nicely against her smooth porcelain skin, though pale, she always had a slightly sunkissed look about her in the summer months from her days spent wandering the gardens. People would always inform the young girl how lucky she was to bear such resemblance to her mother, that she would look just like her when she was older. Though her hair was slightly lighter than Lady Finduilas' long mane, her favorite feature that she shared with her mother were her mesmerizing green eyes, and how when the light hit them just so, they shone like seaglass. Her beauty was to be admired for certain; but that is not what Mirawen admired most about her mother.

Her mother was gentle hearted, and never cruel to anyone, she treated even her inferiors with the utmost respect. She had raised Mirawen to think for herself, and that she could do anything she set her mind to. Finduilas herself was not simply a meek woman of the court, she often went head to head against her Lord husband if she did not agree with him. She was persistent when it came to matters dear to her heart, perhaps that is why Lord Denethor loved and respected her so much.

"Will you teach me one day mother?" Mirawen asked her mother as Finduilas secures the braids with a twist of leather string.

"Of course my little love." She answered her daughter and gave her a kiss atop her head.

Her daughter would grow up to be beautiful, this she knew, and she wanted her daughter to learn to never limit herself, or to stay quiet when it was important to speak up. Mirawen shared the same fierce, daring nature as her oldest brother Boromir, yet managed to be just as intelligent and kind hearted as her brother Faramir. Finduilas hoped that Mirawen's logical side would always outweigh her more reckless one.

Looking out the window of her daughter's chambers, she could make out the darkness in the sky over the foul lands known as Mordor. It sat heavy on her heart, the evil that spread out of its walls; she did not want her children to live in dark times, and she feared for her sons. Boromir, who had been sent off to war two years prior, was gone for months at a time, and in a few years, Faramir would be joining him. Boromir was made for it, she acknowledged; at 20 years old he had already established himself as fierce warrior. He was returning from Osgiliath tonight, after being away from Minas Tirith for six-months he would finally be home again.

There was to be a celebratory feast in honor of his first big victory leading a company of his own. Boromir had the makings of a great leader and was well on his way to becoming Captain in a few years time. His mentor in battle, Madril, had thought Boromir was more than ready to lead a group of his own men, and followed him as his second. They had infiltrated a band of orcs on the Harad road heading North in Ithilien. Fifty men versus over two hundred of the vile creatures, the attack was brilliantly planned out, and led by Boromir, the execution was flawless. Aside from a few injuries, there were no fatalities on Gondor's part.

"When will Boromir be back mother?" Mirawen piped up, interrupting Finduilas from her thoughts.

"Your father said he is to arrive shortly before dusk."

"I can not wait to see him." She beamed as her mother helped her into her dress. "Can I go watch Faramir in the training grounds today?"

Finduilas hesitated, her daughter's sudden interest in swordplay and war stories had left her with an unsettling feeling. Mirawen, ever the stubborn one, would not rest until she was able to do what her mind was set on. She hoped, it was merely a temporary interest, something that would pass. While she taught her daughter to learn that she could do whatever she set her mind to, this was something she did not wish for her to be a part of.

"Yes, you may watch him for a little while before luncheon, afterwards you need to wash and get ready for your brother's arrival. I will be busy today overseeing the preparations for tonight's feast… I do not wish to hunt you down young lady."

Mirawen nodded sheepishly, remembering what had happened the last time she was not where she was supposed to be on time. Her mother had found her in the stables, covered in hay and sweat, when she was supposed to be getting ready for the arrival of the wizard Gandalf. Her parents had made her apologize profusely to the wise old wizard, as to not offend him, however Gandalf was amused by the fiery spirit in the young girl, and assured the Steward and his wife that there was nothing to be offended over. As punishment, her mother had the young Mirawen assist in mucking out the horse stalls for a month. While her mother was not one to become angry, she was very clever when it came to discipline.

"I promise mother, I will." She assured her, looking up at her as Finduilas finished lacing up Mirawen's bodice.

Mirawen's eyes landed on the pendant that rested in the center of her mother's chest. It was a beautiful piece of jewellery, gifted to her from Lord Denethor on their wedding day. He had commissioned for it to be made when it was announced that he was betrothed to the fair Princess of Dol Amroth. It was made of silver, and fashioned after the white tree of Gondor, from the roots emerged a swan, a symbol of her city, encircling the the tree, and seven tiny sapphires rested in the branches, to represent the waters of Belfalas Bay. It symbolized the union between Lord Denethor of Minas Tirith, future Steward of Gondor, and the Princess of Dol Amroth.

"Will you tell me of your home again mother?"

Lady Finduilas sighed, her heart felt heavy whenever she thought of home, she had not been back since before Faramir was born. She wished to feel the kind of breeze that only being so close to the Bay provided, the sound of the waves crashing into the shore, and she longed to swim in its waters on a hot summer's day once more. She missed watching the sunset reflect on the waves from her bedroom window, and how the moonlight made it appear as if a million tiny diamonds danced in the water on a clear night.

She hoped one day she would be able to visit her home with her children, but knew that with the growing dangers coming from the East, it was highly unlikely that trip would happen anytime soon. She put on a brave face for her children, but deep down she was afraid, and overtime as the skies above Mordor grew darker her fear grew. and with every report that arrived of more and more evil spilling into their lands her fear intensified, slowly eating away at her. She suffered from nightmares, but she kept her fears hidden; not even her husband knew, and she continued to appear as strong as ever on the outside.

She shook herself out of her trance and replied to her daughter, "Oh Mirawen, you never tire of hearing that story do you? I fear there is no time for that tale today my love."

"No, never. I like to picture it in my mind; when you describe it I can almost feel the mist of the water on my skin." Mirawen closed her eyes as she answered her mother thoughtfully.

Lady Finduilas' heart warmed, slowly holding the fear that tormented her daily at bay.

"Will you take me there one day mother?"

"I would love to take you there, I wish that with all my heart. Now off you go, if you hurry along I am most certain you will catch Faramir practicing his archery."

Mirawen's eyes lit up, and she hugged her mother tightly before running off. Finduilas followed her daughter to the door, from there she watched her saunter down the hall until she disappeared from sight. She clasped her hand above her heart and thinking of her three beautiful children, suddenly felt lighter.

***

 **A/N:** _I hope you liked this chapter, please leave a review if you enjoyed it. I'm going to take a moment to apologize for any spelling/grammar errors, I am currently without a computer and am using Google Docs on my phone. I promise to try my hardest to catch any mistakes before I post!_

 _Sidenote: I took some creative liberty here in changing the features/appearance of Lady Finduilas, I know she is supposed to have dark hair, but I have described her as a redhead in my story. If you want a face to the name my inspiration for adult Mirawen is the actress Marina Ruy Barbosa (particularly from the series 'Deus Salve o Rei') and it is important to the story that she bear a strong resemblance to her mother (without giving too much away), I picture my story version of Lady Finduilas looking like Julianne Moore._

 _Until next time, Buttercup._


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:** _I only own Mirawen, and any other OC's I introduce along the way. Thank you for the reviews, follows and favorites, we're just in the early stages of this story, so I'm glad to see people are enjoying it! Please continue to leave reviews if you like what you read :)  
Here we go!_ ****

 **10 year old Mirawen**

 _Whoosh._ Pause. _Whoosh._ Pause. _Whoosh._

Those were the sounds made as Mirawen slashed her wooden training sword in the air; her eyes closed, she tried her best to imitate the movements she had observed in the training yard earlier that day. Well… it wasn't _her_ training sword persay, she had "borrowed" it many moons ago, she just never had the intention of returning it. Mirawen kept the small training sword hidden in a secluded area of the gardens, hidden from the rest by the leaves of a large willow tree. She kept it stashed underneath a formation of large rocks that lifted slightly off the soil beneath it, and she would cover it with dirt to be extra careful. She had been fascinated by watching her brothers train since she was old enough to understand what they were doing.

When she was only 5, her eldest brother Boromir had gone off to join Gondor's army to help defend their lands from the forces of Mordor. She didn't understand it then, she had been sad when he had to leave, and had wanted to go with him. She adored her brothers, and wanted to be everywhere they were, she wanted to be brave like Boromir, and as smart as Faramir. Over the years Boromir was away from Minas Tirith more than he was home, when she was 7, he had returned home once again. She remembered anxiously awaiting his arrival at the entrance to the Citadel next to her mother, and brother Faramir like it were yesterday.

*** _ **Flashback*****_

" _Mirawen, stand still my love." Her mother chided, as she bounced in place. She couldn't help it, she was too excited to see her brother. Six months had passed since she had seen him last. She tried to still herself, but it was taking too long, and she, like most children her age, began to get antsy._

" _How much longer is it going to be mother?" She asked looking up at her mother, who looked radiant in her navy blue gown. Mirawen looked down at her own emerald colored dress. It was beautiful, but Mirawen had much preferred her more plain everyday dresses, which were far more comfortable than the fancy attire she was stuffed into now._

" _ **We must look our best for the victory feast tonight." Her mother had said to her earlier as they got ready together, and Mirawen had huffed as she tightened the laces. Finduilas' gown was made of navy blue velvets, with a matching cloak attached to her dress at the shoulders, while Mirawen wore a similar style in rich emerald without the cloak. Both gowns had the tree of Gondor embroidered on the bodice, in gold stitching.**_

" _Not much longer, your father rode out to meet them not two hours ago." Finduilas answered, staring into the horizon, she could faintly make out about fifty riders galloping across the Pelennor fields towards the main gate. "See Mirawen, there they are now."_

 _Mirawen looked out to where her mother was pointing, and saw the large group of horses riding forward, she could see the outline of the flags that waved proudly in the wind._

" _I think I see Boromir! Mother, look! Look!" The seven-year old exclaimed jumping up and down excitedly._

" _He's too small to make out from here Mira." Faramir chuckled from beside her._

 _She turned to give him a glare, "There are three riders at the front. One of them is father for certain, and Boromir would be beside him. Besides, he is the hero and heroes ride at the front of the victory charge." She stated matter-of factly, leaving Faramir at a loss for words._

 _They watched as the group of riders disappeared from site, meaning that they were near approaching the main gate at the first level. It would only be several more minutes before they made it to the top level where they waiting at the Citadel._

" _You have me there sister, I just only hope you will be this excited when I return home victorious." He said sounding half amused and half uncertain._

 _Faramir was a few years away from it being his turn to join Boromir, he would do so willingly as it was his duty, but he knew he would not enjoy the fight the same way his brother did._

" _Oh Faramir, don't be silly. You know I will be just as excited to see you, I will miss your stories too much when you are gone." She said giving her older brother a hug._

 _He smiled to himself, she always enjoyed listening to him recite the stories he had read in books ever since she was really little. While his father had constantly criticized his love of lore, telling him he should focus more of his energy on his training if he ever hoped to be half the warrior his brother was; Mirawen was always begging for one of Faramir's stories._

" _You do know you can read them yourself when I'm away." He teased._

 _She playfully hit his forearm, "I know I can, I'm an excellent reader. It just won't be the same, you tell them so well."_

 _At that moment they could hear the hooves of horses from the level below, which meant that the horses were being led to the stables. While they waited, Faramir glanced at his little sister admiringly, standing next to their mother, he could see the resemblance between the two. She had a fiery spirit like Lady Finduilas had, but lately Faramir had noticed, his mother's flame was slowly burning out, while the young Mira's burned stronger than ever. He was very observant, and though his mother hid it well from everyone else, he knew something was eating at her from the inside. Her smiles had been weaker lately, and not reaching her eyes like they used to._

" _One day, when I'm old enough, I'll join you and brother, and all three of us will ride at the front of the victory charge." Mira piped up then, breaking both Faramir and the Stewardess from their thoughts._

" _Mira… it doesn't work that way." He said hesitantly, wanting to let her down easy, so as not to break her spirit._

" _Well, why not? I'm just as capable, once I learn-" She reasoned._

" _Mirawen. That is enough young Lady." Their mother chided._

" _I don't understand mother. I can fight too! I want to, just like Boromir and Faramir!" She argued._

" _Mirawen." Faramir warned her then, keeping his eye on their mother, he could tell her blood was beginning to boil as she tried to stay calm._

" _Well, I read that in Rohan the women are trained to fight when they ar-"_

" _Mirawen. That is enough on the matter. War is no place for young women, it is the province of men. What they do in Rohan is their business,_ _ **you**_ _are a noble lady of Gondor. I will hear it no more." Their mother reasoned, the guilt creeping in when she noticed her daughter trying to hold back tears._

 _She did not want to hurt the young Mirawen, however, she needed to put out her daughter's interest in war, and the glory that she thought came with it. She was young, and did not know of the horrors and pain that came along with it, she wanted to spare her daughter's innocence. The thought of all three of her children riding off to fight the shadow stoking the fear that resided within her._

 _Just then they could hear the unmistakable sound of the upper level gate opening and closing shut. Seconds later, they saw their father walking side by side with Boromir. He looked ever the warrior, his hair had gotten longer, now reaching his shoulders, and where his face had once been smooth and hairless, now showed the faint outline of a growing beard._

" _Boromir!" Mirawen exclaimed, leaving her spot beside her mother and running towards her brother. She collided into his arms, embracing him tight he wrapped his strong arms around her. "I've missed you!"_

" _And I you, look how much you've grown little one." He smiled at her patting her head. He stood up and embraced his mother when she approached._

" _I am proud of you my son." She beamed, though her eyes did not shine when she said it._

 _Faramir approached then and placed a hand on his brothers shoulder, they grinned at each other and Boromir pulled his younger brother into a hug._

" _I hope father has kept you busy with your training. I need my brother by my side out there. Together, we will bring even more glory to Gondor."_

 _Faramir nodded at him then. "I am meant to join you in a few years time brother, I assure you I have been working hard in the training yard."_

" _That is when you can keep your head out of those fantasies of yours." Their father sneered clasping his older son on the shoulder. "You tell Gandalf that there are more important things for you to be doing then keeping your nose stuck in dusty old books."_

 _Faramir bowed his head in shame, he knew his father disapproved of his being taken under the wing of the Grey Wizard when he came to visit the White City. Faramir couldn't help but be fascinated with the wise old man, and all he had to teach._

" _I'm am sure Faramir makes time for both father," Boromir stated sounding proud of his younger brother. "It isn't everyday a wizard takes on teaching a young lad, he must think highly of you brother."_

 _Hearing his brother stand up for him made Faramir feel a little better, it was true, the wizard had noticed just how clever he was at a young age, and offered to tutor the young lord._

" _How long are you to stay home Boromir?" Mirawen asked, hoping that he would remain in Minas Tirith longer this time._

 _He looked hesitant to answer, but with a nod from his father he answered his young sister. "We are here to see to it that the newest recruits are ready, then we leave. It will be no longer than two weeks time."_

" _ **So soon?"**_ _Both Finduilas and her daughter thought at the same time, while her mother felt her chest get heavier, Mirawen had decided then and there that she would take matters into her own hands. She would bring glory to her country in some way or another if she could help it._

" _Come. Let us go inside and eat, it has been a long journey, and I'm certain the men are hungry for a proper meal." Their mother said then, and at the mention of food they walked together into the dining hall. Mirawen not once leaving her brothers' sides._

 **10 year old Mirawen**

It was the next day she had acquired the wooden sword. She had been excused from her studies and other duties, her mother and father agreeing that she could spend the next few days catching up with Boromir. She had decided to spend every waking moment with her brother, for she did not know how long it would be until she saw them again.

They had walked through the gardens together after breakfast, Boromir relaying all the events leading up to their victory in Ithilien. Mirawen hung onto every word, picturing in her head, her brother in all his armour, swinging his glorious longsword and bringing down the enemy as he told his story.

She had sat on a wooden bench and watched them with great interest as they practiced together in the training yard. She had closed her eyes and imagined herself donned in Gondorian armour and bringing down orc after orc after orc side by side with her brothers. She pictured the three of them riding home to Minas Tirith, leading the victory charge, to bask in their glory.

The two brothers had a friendly competition in archery to see who could hit the most targets, and when Faramir won by a landslide they had even let Mirawen try her hand at it. Faramir didn't want to get her hopes up after the prior day's heated discussion, but he thought a little archery lesson would be harmless. The bow was half her size, and felt heavy in her hands, but Boromir had helped her steady the arrow and let it loose. Faramir kept watch to make sure no one saw them, knowing their mother would be furious if they were caught.

She missed several times, before finally landing an arrow on the outer ring. Mirawen was ecstatic when she hit the target, and helped her brothers put away their weapons. She took note of where the training swords were kept, and made sure to 'forget' to close the padlock when they left.

She had returned later that evening, the door still unlocked, and she swiped one of the wooden small swords meant for training the younger boys. Mirawen checked to make sure no one was near as she exited the little weapon's closet in the training yard, and she locked the door behind her this time. She had tucked it under her arm, and wrapped herself up in her cloak to keep it hidden, and hurried off to her hidden spot in the garden's.

It was there she practiced by herself for the next three years, on a small patch of grass, underneath the old willow tree, where the leaves were so long they touched the ground, keeping her hidden. She had found this spot when she was younger, it was where she would sneak away to read the scrolls she would surely get in trouble for reading. She would read of the history of Middle Earth, and the battles it had held, accounts from the First and Second Ages. She read of elves, she imagined them to be ethereal creatures; and it is here where she first read and discovered her fascination with the Shieldmaidens of Rohan. She dreamed that one day she could become a Shieldmaiden of Gondor.

She smirked to herself as she remembered that day, and the days that followed. Now that Faramir was old enough, he had been sent to join their older brother in Ithilien. With both her brothers being gone, she continued with her training in secret with more fire in her soul. She had been clumsy with the sword at first, it feeling awkward and heavy in her hands, but as she practiced over the years, she felt more confident in her swing. The sword felt lighter as her muscles developed, the footwork became second nature, she could do it in her sleep.

Still she would sneak off and watch Berin train the young soldiers, even when her brothers were away. Later in the evenings, just before dusk, when she had her free time, she would sneak off to her tree and practice the moves she had observed earlier that day. She had hoped that if she practiced hard enough, she could prove to her parents that she was worthy of proper training.

She focused on her breathing, step forward, turn left, strike down, _whoosh_. Block up, _whoosh_ , block down, _whoosh_ , thrust forward, _whoosh_. Mirawen loved the sound the sword made as it cut through the air, it was her second favorite sound next to the sound of steel against steel, though she knew she was a long way from ever holding a true sword. She spun left, and swung the wooden sword as she turned, _whoosh._ Mirawen did not expect to hear the _clunk_ sound her sword made as it met another, the force knocking her to her bottom.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a boy standing before her, chuckling as he looked down at her. "You know, you should keep your eyes open when facing an opponent. They don't even teach that, it's common knowledge really." The boy said smartly, smirking at the stunned girl.

"I wasn't expecting to face an opponent. I practice by myself." She replied with snark, looking up at the boy who appeared a few years older than her. "Who are you?"

"I know you practice by yourself," He answered matter-of factly, like it was obvious. "I've seen you watching us during training before sneaking off, and I followed you here a few days ago, you're pretty good for someone with no formal training, but you need to work on your senses. You never even knew I was here." He offered her a hand up, "My name is Edwin, son of Berin."

She took his hand, and stood up, brushing the dirt off her plain skirts, "You're the arms master's son." She said, taking in his appearance, he did look similar to his father, with the same dark brown hair and matching eyes. "Well, it seems your training is doing well then, if you were able to remain so well hidden I did not notice your presence."

"Yes, I am, and I thank you, I hope to become a Ranger one day. It is nice to meet you Lady Mirawen." He answered her, bowing his head slightly, noticing her startled expression he chuckled once more, "Don't look so shocked, you're the Steward's daughter. I've seen you with your brothers, so you do stand out, it would be impossible not to know who you are."

She blushed slightly, taken aback by his forward comments and stuttered out, "Oh, yes I suppose it's hard to remain anonymous when your family is… well who my family is."

"I thought you might want a sparring partner, and I could always use the extra practice myself if I hope to join the rangers in Ithilien when I'm eighteen." He stated, leaning casually against the tree trunk.

She eyed him suspiciously, "You aren't going to tell my parents are you?"

He laughed then, "No, I don't plan to. Like I said, you are good for someone with no formal training, and I admire your determination, though like also I said before, you need to work on your senses. I've been watching my father train soldiers since I was a young boy, I can help you. If you would like?"

She smiled and looked at her feet, trying to hide the blush that was once again creeping up on her cheeks. "I would like that… I mean, it would be nice to have a sparring partner for a change."

"So it is agreed, I will meet you here tomorrow at this time. I'll… bring you a better training sword though..." He gestured to the one in her hands, "... yours looks like it's seen better days."

He hid the wooden sword he had brought with him under the rocks and they covered it with dirt, he had explained that it would be easier for him to sneak away one sword rather than two, so as not to cause any suspicion. She watched him walk away, excited to begin a new level of her "training", and excited to have made a new friend. There weren't many children her age in the court of Gondor, and with her brother's gone so often, she mostly kept to herself, she hadn't realized how lonely she had felt until this moment.

So taking Edwin up on his offer, Mirawen returned the following evening, and they continued to meet under the willow tree at least every other day. The Lady Finduilas began to notice that her daughter's eyes shone brighter, and that she seemed genuinely happier lately. This warmed the Stewardess' heart, for she knew her daughter was lonely with her brother's away so frequently. Though she did not know the reason behind her daughter's bigger smile, and Mirawen intended to keep it that way.

 **A/N:** _This chapter took a little longer for me to finesse, as this one is where we really get to know Mirawen as a young girl. I also introduced a new OC in this chapter, Edwin the son of the Master -at - Arms (Game of Thrones reference there, btw did anyone see that new teaser for the FINAL season? I'm so excited!) I plan on just a few more of these "younger year" chapters, though the next ones will feature more than just one age (i.e. jump from 10 to 12 to 15 etc) I'm itching to get to the events of the FOTR, but it's important for me to develop Mirawen's character and backstory, and show her relationships with her family, please bear with me, we're almost there. :) Thank you for reading, I hope you liked this chapter!_

 _Until next time!  
-Buttercup_


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:** _I only own my OC's, everything else belongs to Tolkien._

 **11 Year Old Mirawen**

It had been a little over a year since Edwin and Mirawen had started their secret pact, he was true to his word, and never told her parents. He was a good teacher, and patient with the young girl, and never once laughed at her when she told him of her dreams. He had also grown to become a great friend, next to her brothers Mirawen considered the boy three years her senior to be her best friend.

"Are you ready?" Edwin asked her.

Mirawen turned her head to the direction of his voice, though she could not see him due to the blindfold covering her eyes. "Of course I am, we've done this a hundred times."

She swung her sword upwards and blocked his as it came down. _Clunk_. She felt the pressure crawling up her arms as she held the block until he backed away.

"I know, just making sure." He replied smartly, swinging at her once more from a new spot, Mirawen blocking him with ease. _Clunk_. "You're getting better at this."

"I had no choice, I was quite tired of getting bruises from this activity." She responded, "Can I take off the blindfold now?"

"Not yet Mira, you've still got a ways to go. You need more than just your eyes out there. Ready?"

She nodded, and again he came at her. They continued sparring one another until the sky turned a burnt orange, signalling it was time to call it a day. Mirawen hid their weapons, while Edwin did a quick check to make sure they were in the clear, and they left thru the gardens together.

"So your birthday is coming up soon." Edwin stated as they walked together.

"Yes, it is." She said.

"What are you wishing for this year?"

She shrugged, "All I really want is for my brothers to come home and stay a little longer for once. I really miss them."

"You must be close to them." She nodded in response and he continued, "I hope they do for your sake, though I do hope you'll still spend time with me." He admitted to her, he'd grown to be quite fond of the headstrong girl. He felt a sense of pride in seeing her progress over the last year, going from somewhat sloppy and erratic, to more thoughtful and elegant with her movements. He always thought it was like watching some sort of dance, and he enjoyed sparring with a partner who was as dedicated as he was.

"Of course I will, in fact I'm hoping I can put some of this to good use and show them what I've learned this last year." She said to him.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" He cautioned.

"Edwin. If I can show them how good you've helped me become, then maybe they'll reason with my parents. Trust me, I've thought this through." She reaffirmed, though whether she was trying to convince him or herself, he did not know.

"Well, if you say so. Just don't come after me if your mother goes mad and locks you in your chambers." He joked.

"If I were locked in my chambers, how in Middle Earth would I come after you?" She laughed.

"I thought you were resourceful? I'm sure you'd find a way, and if that didn't work I'd come rescue you, I'd be too bored without you around to make fun of." He teased her.

"Oh hush you!" She said shoving him.

"Same time tomorrow?" He said turning to her when they reached the garden's end.

She nodded at him, "As long as you promise you won't make me wear that dreadful blindfold."

"No promises." He shrugged and the two parted ways.

 **12 Year Old Mirawen (5 Months Later)**

"Good morning my love." Her mother cooed, gently stroking the hair away from her forehead.

"Hrmmggrfff." Mirawen groaned, turning away and burying her head in her pillow. " _How early is it? I'm so tired and everything hurts."_ Her body was screaming at her, and all she wanted to do was sleep for a hundred years after yesterday's session with Edwin.

"Alright then, I suppose you don't want your birthday present." Her mother taunted getting up from the bed to stoke the fire.

" _Good, I don't want it… wait… birthday present? Today's my? That means…"_ Her eyes shot open and despite her sore muscles protesting, she jumped out of bed. "Are Boromir and Faramir home yet?" She asked excitedly.

"Happy birthday Mirawen." Her mother smiled warmly handing her daughter her robe which was nice and toasty warm from being hung near the fire all night. "They will be here shortly after luncheon, I've asked Lenniel to bring you a tub of hot water, after you bathe come meet us in the hall for breakfast. You are covered in dirt, were you playing in the garden's again yesterday?"

"Yes…" Mirawen answered her mother. "I was reading an interesting book up in a tree and when I was climbing down I fell." She lied.

Her mother seemed to believe her little fib, shaking her head she made her exit, thinking to herself how much her daughter was like her sons. A few minutes later her handmaiden arrived with hot water for her bath.

"Happy birthday milady." Lenniel said, curtsying.

"Thank you." Mirawen replied smiling, as the girl filled her tub with the water, then added the sweet smelling oils. "But I've told you, just Mira is fine."

"Of course mi- Mira." She nodded. "I've left your shampoo's next to the tub, and your dress has been pressed and will be waiting for you on your bed."

Lenniel had been Mirawen's handmaiden for two years now, she had lasted longer than the others before her. Mirawen was headstrong and liked to do most things for herself, and Lenniel seemed to be the only one who understood and respected her need for independence. She let Mirawen bathe and dress herself, helping with the laces when requested. She could remember one time when the young Lady had torn a sleeve in a new dress, instead of just letting her stitch it up, she had asked Lenniel to show her how.

"I'll come back in twenty minutes to help you get into your dress." She stated, and before Mirawen could protest she put her hand up to stop her. "This one has a lot of complicated laces in the back… you are going to let me help you today."

Mirawen raised her eyebrow and smiled sheepishly, "Okay." She replied as her handmaiden took her leave, and she climbed into the warm water.

 *******

It wasn't until she reached the hall that she realized how hungry she had been, the smell of sausage and freshly baked bread reaching her nostrils. Breakfast had been quiet, nothing more than light conversation, but she noticed the smiles her mother and father sent her way when they thought she wasn't looking. It was almost as if they were keeping something from her.

After breakfast she went about her day, forcing herself to steer clear of the gardens, if she got her dress dirty before her brother's arrived she knew her mother would have her head. She busied herself instead in the library, she had found a fascinating book about the history of the Kings of Gondor, beginning with the first King Elendil, until the line of Kings ended and were taken over by the Stewards. Mirawen wondered what it would be like if there was a King in Gondor once more, she had read that the White Tree was covered in flowers, and she wished to see what that looked like in reality, not just drawings. She knew her father was of high importance in Gondor, though he was not King.

Her reading was interrupted by a pair of hands covering her eyes followed by a deep voice, "I knew I would find you here little one."

"Boromir!" She exclaimed putting her book down and launching herself into his arms, over his shoulder she could see Faramir was there as well. "Faramir! You are here early, mother said you would not be here until after luncheon!"

She released her oldest brother and turned to give Faramir a hug as well. "We were able to ride out earlier than intended." He said smiling down at his sister in his arms.

"Happy birthday Mira, my how you've grown." Boromir said ruffling her hair.

"You're one to talk, you're finally able to grow a beard dear brother." She teased him.

They spent the better part of an hour catching up, until it was time to head down to the dining hall for lunch. After their bellies were full, her father announced it was time to head down to the second level of the city. Curious why they would be heading there, Mirawen followed her parents and brothers, who kept looking back at her and smiling.

They reached the stables, where the horse master Northorion was waiting for them. " _What are we doing here?"_ She wondered, hoping she was here for the reason she thought they might be here for.

"My dear daughter," Denethor beamed, "It is time for your gift, and now that you are twelve years of age, it is time you had your own horse, just like your brothers did at your age."

Her heart leapt and she felt elated, looking between her brothers and parents she couldn't find any words. Her father nodded at Northorion, and he gestured for them all to follow him. They walked through the stables full of Gondor's finest warhorses, and she wondered which one would become hers. They stopped when they got to the fenced training area just outside the stables, in the middle of the ring she saw a young buckskin foal. She looked up at her father in shock, "Is that…?"

"Yes, he is yours." He beamed.

"Thank you father, mother! Thank you!" She exclaimed hugging them.

"May I?" She asked.

Northorion nodded, going into the ring with her while her family waited and watched just outside. She slowly approached the young colt whose ears perked up when he heard the footsteps approaching. Mirawen crouched down and waited for him to come up to her, slowly the colt walked towards her, she held her hand up, and when he placed his head against her hand she smiled.

"He is quite the curious young thing," Northorion explained "He was born several months ago, your father said he would be perfect for you when he first saw him."

"He's perfect." Mirawen said, smiling at her new friend, stroking his black mane.

"Of course, it will be some time before he is ready to be ridden, but you are welcome to come visit him whenever you wish, I will be training him personally." He said to her.

"I will! Everyday if I can." She said calmly, as she was entranced the horse before her, and asked Northorion, "What is his name?"

"He does not have one yet," He said smiling at the young girl, he handed her half an apple. "Perhaps you could come up with one?"

She held out the fruit to the colt who ate it out of her hand, she observed him thoughtfully before remembering a name she had read in one of her books.

"Argo." She stated confidently. "His name is Argo."

The colt neighed, and hopped around in its place.

"I think he approves." Commented Boromir from outside the ring.

"Argo it is." Northorion repeated. " _Great Protector_. He will be a great horse."

They stayed and watched the newly named colt run around the ring for a little while longer before heading back up to the Citadel to prepare for dinner. Mirawen couldn't wait to find Edwin and tell him about her new horse.

The next day, she met with Edwin in the gardens and told him all about her gift from her family. She had already been in the stables visiting Argo that morning after breakfast, she fed him carrots and brushed his mane until Northorion had come to take him for his training. She watched for a little while until it was time to head up for lunch.

"I have a gift for you." Edwin said to her.

"You did not need to get me anything Edwin."

"I wanted to." And he presented her with a small package wrapped in brown paper.

Slowly she opened it, revealing a silver dagger with a brown leather hilt, it had gold stitching wrapping around the leather like vines. As she examined it she noticed it appeared to have been well loved, parts of the leather hilt looked faded.

"It was my brother's." Edwin admitted. " _Was?"_ she thought. "He passed… several years ago. He was fatally wounded, and they weren't able to get him back to Minas Tirith in time."

"I'm so sorry Edwin… I didn't know you had a brother. This gift, it's beautiful… but I think you should keep it. It is a piece of him, and it should be yours." She said, holding the dagger towards him.

"It is okay, there is nothing to be sorry for." He said to her, he pushed the dagger back towards her and closed her hands over it. "I want you to have it, my brother had the makings of a fierce warrior, and it would make me happy knowing you had a piece of him to protect you, I won't always be around."

Her insides warmed as his hand lingered on hers and she looked away to hide her blush from him. She had always thought him to be quite handsome, but she felt she was much too young to think of those things.

"Thank you." She said softly, and leaned over to give him a hug. "I will cherish this gift forever."

When his arms wrapped around her to return the hug, she felt even warmer. They spent the next few hours sparring in their secret spot before it was time to leave. "Meet me at the training grounds after dinner." She said to him as they parted ways.

He nodded at her, and sighed, knowing what she had meant by that. He had hoped she had forgotten, he didn't think her family would take too kindly to secret training behind their backs.

Hesitantly, he met her like he had promised he would. She was practicing her archery with her brothers, they were laughing together as she missed the target. Seeing Mirawen with her brother's made him miss his own. Edric, who was a few years older than her brother Faramir, had been a strong fighter, he was cunning, and made a great ranger. He had admired Boromir as a warrior greatly, and Edwin could see why. Edwin longed to be a ranger like his older brother once was. It was during a scouting mission that he had lost his life, and Edwin wanted to help protect Gondor's borders just like Edric had, finishing what his brother had started.

"Edwin!" Mirawen exclaimed waving him over.

"I must say, this isn't your strong suit my friend." He teased her, gesturing at her arrows that lay on the ground, and the two that just barely managed to hit the outer rings.

Her brother's laughed then, and Mirawen glared at them playfully.

"Laugh all you want, I may not be good at archery but wait until you see this!" She exclaimed, her brother's shared a confused look as she ran to the weapons closet and emerged with two practice swords. "Edwin, come on!"

She tossed a sword at Edwin's feet, who picked it up slowly. He looked back at the Steward's sons who shared a concerned look between each other. He gulped, knowing deep down this wouldn't end well, but he did not want to disappoint Mira who was smiling in front of him.

They entered their dance, swords clunking against each other, as she blocked his blows and he blocked hers. He landed a blow that knocked her to the ground, but she was quick, sweeping her leg underneath his, she brought him down and quickly leaped up. He was too shocked to move, she had never bested him quite like this before, he was impressed. She must have had some extra adrenaline showing off for her brother's, and when he looked up she stood above him pointing the wooden sword at his throat.

"Dead." She said triumphantly, and she smiled over her shoulder at her brother's who looked both impressed and concerned at the same time.

"When did you learn… this?" Faramir asked her softly.

"I've been practicing alone for years now, but Edwin has been helping me for the last year." She explained proudly.

"Do mother and father know?" Boromir questioned, his arms remained crossed.

"Well… no." She answered, "but I was hoping you could help me convince them I deserve to be trained proper. I've been working really hard at it, and I want to be Gondor's first shieldmaiden."

"I see. Well, I suppose we should let father know what you've been up to." Boromir said, sighing, he looked behind his sister to see Edwin standing there, looking at the ground, "...and who you've been spending your time with."

She smiled, "Thank you! I knew you'd understand!" Turning to Edwin she whispered, "See I told you it would work. I'll see you tomorrow friend."

"Until then." He answered, smiling weakly at her. She was so wrapped up in her own fantasies that Boromir's stern tone, and her brother's concerned looks went completely unnoticed by her. As he watched the three of them walk off together, it was the first time he felt truly worried of the consequences that would surely follow.

 **A/N:** _Thank you for reading, and for the favorites and follows! Just a few more chapters before we get to the main events!_

 _Fun fact: the name Argo comes from a little show known as Xena: Warrior Princess, and his looks are inspired by the titular horse from Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (I was obsessed with that movie as a kid)_

 _Until next time,  
-Buttercup_


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _I only own my OC's, everything else belongs to Tolkien._

That night Mirawen went to bed feeling exhausted and defeated, perhaps her hopes had been too high, for her to feel them be crushed this hard. She had not gotten the reaction she thought she was going to get; she had been naive to think her parents would be alright with her learning swordsmanship in secret. Mirawen even had a speech prepared in her head on the how women of Rohan were trained from a young age to become Shieldmaidens, how it was honorable, and how they defended their country as well as the men. She thought perhaps she could sway them that way, impressing them with her knowledge and determination, she had opened her mouth to say the words but they never came.

Her mother was furious of course, on the outside she appeared angrier than ever, but on the inside, unseen to her family, she was breaking. The fear she held for her children in these times was slowly crippling her. Lord Denethor on the other hand, had remained quiet; his brow furrowed and face in a frown, Mirawen could tell that her father had been utterly disappointed. They told her she was no longer allowed to watch her brother's train, and that there would be consequences if she was found lingering around the training area. He had lashed out at Faramir when he found out his sons had been teaching her archery when they visited, with Boromir quickly coming to his defence. Boromir had explained to his father that he was equally to blame, and it was only in fun, that they never once thought it would come to this.

Her brother's felt it their fault, for filling her head with fantasies, and glorifying war. They thought they had been protecting her by leaving out the gore and death when they relayed their stories to her. Their sister was young, and naive, she did not know of the darker things that came with war, they had seen to that. They never once thought that she would go as far as to teach herself in secret.

Boromir and Faramir admitted to themselves that she had some skill, but it was that fact that scared them the most, and ultimately led them to going to their parents. Dinner was silent that evening, Mirawen would not look at anyone as she ate, and when they watched her leave the dining hall holding back tears, they felt terrible, but knew that it was for the best.

As soon as she shut the door to her bedroom, she let the tears that she had been holding in fall. It was a feeling of relief, as the white hot tears poured down her face. She had felt a dulling pain all evening from suppressing her tears, as she did not want to appear weak in front of her family.

" _I can not believe them! I trusted them! I thought they would have my side! I hate them! I hate them! I'll run away and go where they will never find me! They won't care! They don't want me to be happy!"_ she let her angry thoughts take over as she launched herself into her bed, and buried her face in her pillow, muffling her cries, she eventually fell asleep.

Mirawen awoke the next morning, her throat dry and her head throbbing. She noticed that someone had left a pitcher of water on her writing table, and suddenly feeling very thirsty she got out of bed to make her way to the table. Stretching her arms into the air, her shoulders made a cracking sound. She felt itchy from falling asleep in the wool dress she had worn yesterday, and noticed she had kept her shoes on as well. She poured herself a glass of water and gulped it down greedily, quickly pouring herself another.

She felt calmer this morning, and not as angry as she had been the night before, though she was still upset over the matter. " _I should have listened to Edwin…"_ she thought to herself. She quickly scrawled a note that read ' _ **Meet me in our spot in one hour. -M'**_ and folded the paper in half, thankful that no one knew of their secret spot. Perhaps they could still practice in secret, as long as she stayed away from the training grounds, no one had to know this time.

Lenniel had arrived a few minutes later, with a tray of fruits and bread since Mirawen had slept through breakfast. After she ate, her handmaiden helped her brush the knots out of her hair. Mirawen got dressed in clean clothing, and her handmaiden picked up her dirty Lenniel was gathering up the sheets and blankets for washing as well, Mirawen stopped her.

"Lenniel, may I ask a favor of you?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes mi-Mirawen." Lenniel responded, pausing. "What would you have me do?"

Mirawen handed her the folded note, "Can you please find Edwin, the Arms Master's son, and give him this? He will be heading to his combat training, but please be discreet and make sure no one sees you."

Lenniel, unable to say no to her lady, especially when she stood there with pleading eyes, nodded, and took the piece of paper from Mirawen's outstretched hand. "Of course, I will go right away." She put the note in her apron, and gathered up the laundry before exiting Mirawen's chambers.

Once the door was shut, Mirawen grabbed the small decorative box she had hidden in her drawer, and dug through the papers until her hand met steel. She hugged the dagger to her chest and sighed, before placing it back in the box and hiding it once more.

 **One hour later.**

Mirawen stood in the middle of their little hideaway, fiddling with her hands nervously as she waited anxiously for Edwin to arrive. It had been fifteen minutes she stood there, and she wondered if Lenniel was able to get the note to him without anyone seeing her. It was several more minutes before she heard footsteps approaching and he entered her line of site.

"Edwin!" She exclaimed, "I was not sure you got my note."

"I got it." He said cooly, avoiding eye contact with her, though she did not notice.

"Great, now that you're here, I'm ready to start, though, please no blindfold today." She said, picking up the wooden swords from the grass.

"You're not serious?" Edwin scoffed.

"Why wouldn't I be? I'm only banned from the training grounds, and my parents do not know of this place." She explained, "You were right, I shouldn't have been so quick to show off to my brothers, I should have listened to you."

"You should have." He answered, and Mirawen held the sword out to him, though Edwin stood there with his arms crossed.

"Why are you so mad? I'm the one who has been punished." She said, glaring at him.

He laughed then, though it was not a joyful laughter that escaped his lips. "I can not believe you… you are so oblivious to things outside of your little bubble and I can't believe I didn't see it before."

"What are you talking about?" She said sounding confused.

"This isn't just about you!" He said sternly, trying to keep his voice down. "Do you really think your brothers left out the fact that I was helping you?"

It dawned on her then, she was so stuck in her own little world, that she did not stop to think that Edwin would get into trouble to. "Edwin… I… I don't…" She started.

"Just don't. Don't say anything. I was stupid enough to go on with this folly, and now my father is paying the price." He said sounding angrier.

"Your father doesn't have anything to do with it though, what do you mean he's paying the price?" She asked sounding worried.

" _Your_ father has relieved him of his position, and he's asked us to leave Minas Tirith by the end of the day." He said through gritted teeth.

"What?! He can't do that! Edwin-" She took a step towards him, dropping the wooden sword to the ground, he held his hand up, to stop her from coming closer.

"Just stop it. It's done." He said not looking at her.

"I will fix this. He can't make you leave." She argued, not ready to give up. "Then we can keep practicing."

He scoffed. "You are so selfish. Can you not see you've done enough?! This…" he said gesturing to the area they stood in "this folly is over!"

She took another step towards him before he said, "Stay away from me."

"But… you're my best friend Edwin." She said.

"We're hardly friends _milady_." He said scathingly, "I thought we were once, but I could never be friends with someone so selfish and naive. I wish I never followed you here in the first place." And he left her standing underneath the willow tree.

Her heart broke then as she watched him walk away from her, and the loneliness she had felt those years before she met him kicked back into place. His words had cut her, but he had spoken truth; she had been naive, and was thinking only of herself. She ran out of the gardens then, she had to make this right.

Mirawen found her father in his study, and she entered the room quietly, seeing him sitting at his desk, studying the map that lay before him. She knocked on the wall lightly, signalling her presence. Her father turned his head slightly, and upon seeing her waved his hand for her to come closer. "Come, Mirawen."

Fiddling with her hands nervously, she stepped forward. "I'm sorry father, I shouldn't have gone behind your back."

He hummed, and he turned to face her as she continued. "Please... don't punish Edwin for my mistake." She pleaded with him. "It was all my idea… I… I knew who his father was, and I asked him to teach me in secret. He didn't want to… but I threatened him."

He seemed to buy into what she was saying and nodded for her to continue, furrowing his brows as his listened to his daughter's lie.

"I told him that if he refused to help me, I would tell you that he had hurt me in some way, and that you would not take lightly to that and he would be punished, that he would never become a soldier of Gondor if he wouldn't. He's been helping me ever since, because he was scared that I would lie about him. I had hoped that once I had gotten good enough, that you would see to it that I was trained proper, I just… I wished to help defend my country… just like you, and Boromir and Faramir do. I wanted to be a part of bringing glory to Gondor to… but I see now how naive I have been. Please… please do not punish him and his father for my foolishness. Please do not send them away." She ended.

"I see…" Her father said studying her, he believed her. "I do not wish to lose my best trainer. I will not punish them daughter, but you are to stay away from the boy henceforth."

She nodded, for once not feeling guilty for lying, "Thank you father, and for what it's worth… Edwin is very skilled… and he was a good teacher. I think you will find that he will make an excellent Ranger."

He stared at her then thoughtfully stroking his chin, "I will take your input into consideration. Is that all?"

"Yes, father." Mirawen bowed her head and took her leave. Once she entered the hall and closed the door behind her, she let out a sigh of relief, glad she could remedy her selfish mistakes. She wanted nothing more than to find Edwin and tell him the good news, but knew she had to stay away from him to keep him from getting into further trouble. Her heart still hurt from the way they had left things, but it was for the best she decided. She could live with Edwin hating her if he was still able to achieve his dreams, at least one of them would. She headed down the hall to find her brothers, for though she was still angry at them, she did not want the three of them to leave things this way.

Later that evening, as Lord Denethor and his wife were getting ready for bed, he thought back to his conversation with his young daughter earlier that day. " _I wanted to be a part of bringing glory to Gondor…"_ she had said. His daughter was stubborn, and she was smart, he was loathe to see her spirits crushed so deeply and had been thinking of other ways she could satisfy that need.

"I have been thinking…" he started, stroking his chin thoughtfully as his wife brushed her long auburn hair in front of the vanity mirror. She turned to him, somehow knowing what he was going on about.

"About Mirawen." She stated. "As have I…"

He nodded and continued, "I have an idea… it is not the most conventional, but, perhaps it will help some."

"Please do not suggest that she take up proper training… It is no place for her." Finduilas said sternly, putting the brush down and facing her husband head on.

He held his hands up, "Not that my love. I think I have come up with a solution that will allow her to feel like she is contributing, while quashing her desire to be a _Shieldmaiden of Gondor_ …" He stated.

Curious, Finduilas stood and Denethor continued. "Perhaps, we can have Ioreth take Mirawen under her mentorship. With all that's been going on outside the city I know that she could use some extra help in the Healing Gardens, more and more soldiers are coming back wounded these days."

Finduilas hummed, considering what her husband had just suggested. "I see. You think if she sees the wounded soldiers she will finally understand the side effects of war?" Her husband nodded, and she continued, "And that by learning to become a healer… she will feel that she is fulfilling her need to bring glory to this country."

Denethor nodded again, and they both stood in a thoughtful silence before Lady Finduilas spoke. "You are right, it is not the most conventional, but I understand your thinking. If it will keep my daughter from running off into some battlefield with a sword raised, I will consent to this."

Denethor smiled, glad they could come up with a solution. "I will speak to Ioreth in the morning, if she will have her, Mirawen can start right away."

"She will not avoid her studies if she takes this on." Finduilas stated sternly, "She is coming of age soon, and she must focus on learning the ways of the court if she is to become Lady of her husband's house one day. She needs to take that more seriously."

Denethor agreed, "We will see to it my love, I am working on finding her a suitable husband. Rohan is no longer an option, though I had considered arranging a marriage between her and King Theoden's son, she is far too interested in their history of women in combat and I wish to keep her away from it."

His wife nodded, and sighed, it had been far too long since Rohan and Gondor had been strong allies. A marriage would have ensured a treaty between the neighboring countries. She understood her husband's reasoning, and silently agreed with him.

"And if she is caught in the training grounds?" She questioned, knowing her daughter's stubbornness was strong.

"We will see to it that she stays away if she wishes to stay in Ioreth's service." He stated.

They agreed on the ground rules, and decided to approach both Ioreth and Mirawen in the morning. Their daughter was smart, and would make a fine healer one day. They hoped that this would lift her spirits up as they hated to see her so solemn, and simultaneously keep her from her fantasies of war. Denethor kissed his wife goodnight, and they drifted off into a peaceful slumber, the weight on Finduilas' heart lifting ever so slightly.

 **A/N:** _This chapter is just a bit of a follow up to the previous one, showing the repercussions of Mirawen's secret coming out into the open. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next one will be a little bit of a time-jump. I'm going to aim to post at least one new chapter a week, most likely on Wednesday's._

 _Until next time._

 _-Buttercup_


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N:** _Yay, I'm happy to see a few new followers, and thank you to those who have favorited my story and left a review, I'm happy to see people are enjoying it. As per usual I only own my OC's and the rest belong to Tolkien._

 **15 Year Old Mirawen**

It was a colder day than most, and it was not entirely to blame on the fact that the sun remained hidden by the grey clouds above, not allowing any of its warm rays to reach the lands beneath it. It was a solemn time for the land of Gondor and its people, who went about their day slower than most other days. From a bird's eye view, it would appear as if a sea of black were flowing through its wall. The city was mourning the death of the Lady Finduilas, Lord Denethor's beautiful wife, and mother of their three children.

Beregond, a member of the Citadel guard, stood watch over the fair lady's body as she lay in her wake, as was custom for noble families of Gondor. There had been a funeral earlier that day; many people had admired the Steward's wife, and many had come to pay their respects. White flowers were placed with care at the base of her temporary resting place until she was moved into her tomb in the Hall of Stewards.

Lord Denethor had given a beautiful speech to celebrate his wife's life, as their three children stood by his side. After his wife's death, he felt cold inside, and kept mostly to himself. Her illness had come back several months ago, but this time it effects on her were much stronger than they had been all those years ago. He spent as much time with Finduilas as he could until she was bedridden to the point she could barely speak, and she was finally moved into the House of Healing two weeks before she fell into a slumber where she would not wake.

Ioreth had offered for her young apprentice to take some time off after her mother passed, but Mirawen declined, choosing instead to keep working beside and learn from her mentor. She felt bitter over her mother's passing, unable to accept the fact that she was truly gone, and kept herself busy aiding those who needed. This worried the young girl's mentor, as Ioreth had no children of her own, she had grown to care for Mirawen as if she were her own daughter. When the Steward had approached her all those years ago, requesting he teach his daughter the ways of a healer, she was hesitant at first. Ioreth had known the girl to be quite headstrong, and feared training her would be no easy task, but she accepted his request. After the first few weeks, her fears vanished, and she was quite surprised to see that the little Lady was quick to learn; by simply observing Ioreth work, she was able to change dressings to look exactly the same as her mentor shortly after coming into her service.

Soon, her time in the Healing Houses went from three days a week, to four, then five, and she began to spend more hours there each day, learning as much as she possibly could. When she had first started, Mirawen would observe for the most part, handing Ioreth the tools and items she needed; eventually having everything set out for her mentor without needing to be asked. It took some time, but she soon learned what supplies were needed for each type of wound they encountered. She spent her free time reading books in the library, educating herself on the different types of herbs used in healing, how to make salves by mixing several different plants with water and other liquids to stop infections and so on.

After three years, she was able to treat and stitch minor wounds on her own without aid, and she was able assist Ioreth with those that were more fatal. She had decided long ago, when she first began learning under Ioreth, that if she were not able to be a soldier of Gondor, than she would aid those who were; she felt this station was just as noble, therefore taking it very seriously. Working in the Houses of Healing, it was the first time she truly understood the horrors of war, which had been the reason for her parents sending her there, and it was the first time she ever experienced death.

Mirawen was only thirteen when they first lost someone they were tending to; he was a young soldier, around Faramir's age. He had come to them with a fatal stab wound in the abdomen, though the soldier's who accompanied him had done their best to stop the bleeding and dress his wound, he had lost too much blood before arriving in their care. Ioreth and Mirawen had done everything they could, but ultimately, he succumbed to his wounds.

It was the first time Mirawen truly felt fear grip at her heart, she was scared for her brothers, and each time they came home for a visit she hugged them a little harder. It was because of this, she would return to her spot in the gardens at least once a week; disobeying her parents she practiced swinging her sword, so if the time ever came, she could defend herself and those she loved. Unlike her mother, Mirawen reacted to her fears differently. She often wondered if her brother's were scared when they were out there defending the country.

" _All the time." Boromir had admitted to her when she had asked him years ago._

" _But you are so brave, how can you be brave if you are scared?" She asked him._

 _He chuckled, before explaining, "Mirawen, being brave does not mean that I am not without fear; being brave is being able to look that fear in the eye, and triumph over it. If I was not scared, I would not have the bravery I needed to face the enemy."_

" _I think I understand," She had said, resting her head on her older brother's shoulder and she yawned. "What fear makes you brave Boromir?"_

 _He paused a moment, considering her question, and he answered thoughtfully. "My bravery comes from a desire to protect those I love. When I am battling an enemy, it's not just Gondor I am protecting; it is father, it is mother, it is you." She smiled, and hugged her oldest brother, and decided then and there that she would be brave to, just like Boromir. Eventually she had fallen asleep and Boromir carried her to her chambers, tucking his little sister into bed, though she was not so little anymore._

There had been several losses since that day as the years passed by, but she grew thicker skin, and she never forgot the face of the first soldier they could not save. No death, however, had hit her harder than when her mother succumbed to the illness they could not cure.

The healers had given her mother all sorts of different medicines and potions, trying to keep the illness at bay, to no avail. She grew worse over time, and withered away, her face drained of its color, she was eventually moved into her own room in the Houses of Healing.

Mirawen would spend as much time with her mother as she could, when she was needed she would be found at her mother's bedside, pouring through books trying to find answers while her mother slept. When she was awake Finduilas enjoyed listening to Mirawen tell her about her days of training with Ioreth; she was most proud of her daughter, and grateful for the decision she and her husband had made all those years ago.

Through learning to become a healer, her daughter had gained a sense of purpose, and she also learned empathy, she began to think more of others, putting their well being ahead of her own; she had grown more confident, and more humble at the same time.

The day had been warm, but Finduilas felt cold in her bed, and she knew her time was coming to an end. When she closed her eyes she could smell the crisp air and imagined herself to be back in Dol Amroth, dipping her feet in the cool water; how she wished she could feel that one last time.

Lord Denethor had spent the morning with his wife, holding her frail hand, and stroking her knuckles with his thumb. She could not bear to tell her husband goodbye, so she spent her last moments with him in a comfortable silence. She willed herself to fight a little longer, her sons were stationed in Ithilien, and were not expected back home for another week, she wished she could see them one last time, though she knew it could not be. Despite her will being strong, her body could not fight much longer, and soon she felt her body slowly shutting down.

Mirawen had been in the middle of rounding with Ioreth when she felt a sudden feeling in her gut that she could not shake. She had excused herself and went straight to her mother's bedside. She saw her mother laying there, as pale as the white sheets draped over her frail body. She noticed that her once rich, shiny red waves now appeared dull in color, and pieces of frizz stuck to the sweat on her forehead and sunken cheeks. Finduilas opened her eyes to see her daughter sitting next to her, and she thought to herself how Mirawen had grown into such a beautiful young woman. It would still be a few years before she came of age, but already she had started to develop more womanly curves, looking less like a child more and more. It pained Lady Finduilas to realize that she would not be there for her daughter in the years to come, years where Mirawen would need her mother most.

"Miraw…" She started to say, before coughing suddenly.

"Rest your voice mother, you need to reserve your strength." Mirawen shushed her mother, quickly turning to grab a glass of water, she held it against her mother's chapped lips, it was then she noticed the speckles of red on the white blanket. She swallowed the lump in her throat as her mother turned away from the drink she offered. Lady Finduilas cleared her throat and held her hand out for Mirawen to hold, her daughter's hand feeling like fire in her ice cold palm.

"Mirawen…" She spoke softly, staring directly into her daughter's welled up eyes. "It is time…"

Mirawen shook her head, "No. You must keep fighting. Ioreth and the others… we are all working to find a cure, we just need more time…"

Using what strength she had left, her mother positioned herself to sit upright, Mirawen propping up the pillows for her to lean back on.

"I have none left…" Lady Finduilas said slowly. "Mira… I am so prou-..." _*cough*_

Mirawen offered her the glass of water again and her mother shook her head no.

"I am so proud… of you." Mirawen began to choke up as her mother spoke. Feeling a cool metal being placed in her hands, Mira looked down to see her mother's necklace in her palm. Holding it up, the sapphires sparkled in the sunlight, and speckles of blue danced along the walls of the room.

"Promise me you will go there one day… for me." Finduilas continued, and Mirawen nodded.

"I promise mother." Holding right to her mother's hand, her voice choking on the lump she held in her throat.

"You have such a spark my beautiful daughter…" She said, admiring her daughter she reached up to place a hand on her face, stroking her cheek lovingly. "Do not let the darkness dim your light. Do not let it fester inside you like it has done me."

A tear escaped, and Finduilas wiped it off her daughter's cheek with her cool fingers. "Do not weep… Mirawen. You are stronger than most women I know… stronger than me. You are so much braver… promise me… promise me you will not let fear cripple you… like I have let it do to me."

"I promise mother." Mirawen said, noticing her mother's grip on her hand had loosened before she broke into a series of coughs. When she went silent, Mirawen helped her mother lay down, and pulled the blankets over her chest to keep her warm.

"Your father… you must be strong for him. Be strong for the family Mirawen…" Her mother said to her, gesturing for Mirawen to lean in closer. Mirawen felt her mother's chapped lips press against her forehead. "I love you my daughter."

"I love you mother." Mirawen choked out, letting out a quiet sob.

"Be strong." Were Lady Finduilas' last words, and Mirawen stayed by her side, she held her mother's hand until she took her final breath. Leaning down, she placed a soft kiss on her forehead, and with her hand she smoothed out her mother's hair. Standing up, she noticed her mother appeared to look more peaceful than she'd seen her in a long time. Mirawen let several silent tears fall before she quickly remembered her mother's final words to her. She turned around, as if she was trying to keep her mother from seeing her tears.

"I promise I will be strong mother, even when it is hard to do so." She said aloud, wiping her face with her sleeve. Glancing down, she stared at the pendant she held in her hand, and carefully, she pulled the necklace over her head. Mirawen then tucked the pendant underneath her dress to rest between her breasts, and held her hand over it. Reaffirming to herself " _I will be strong"_ before taking one last glance over her shoulder at her mother's still form. Turning away, she left the room with a heavy heart.

Mirawen wandered through the halls of the Healing Houses, hugging herself as she began to feel colder all of sudden, peering through the large window that overlooked the gardens, she looked upwards to discover that the clouds had moved to cover the sun. As she continued down the halls, her body slowly entered a state of shock and her ears began to ring. Disoriented, and her surroundings a blur, she placed a hand against the wall to keep her balance. Feeling a wave of pain wash over her as her grief began to set in, she felt the sudden need to get away. One of the healers has crossed paths with her, stopping to ask if she was okay; she did not see his face nor would she remember it if she had, as everything felt like it was spinning around her. She barely remembered uttering the words that left her mouth then.

"My mother is dead." She had stated, her voice cracking as she said it out loud for the first time. Mirawen nodded her head when he asked her if she was okay once more. She turned to make for the exit as he ran off, surely to inform the warden of the grave news. Once she made it outside, she felt a sudden wave of nausea overcome her, throwing herself to the ground she emptied the contents of her stomach into a nearby bush.

There was a small fountain a few feet away from her, she got up slowly and made her way to the running water. Cupping the water with her hands, she rinsed the taste of bile out of her mouth, swishing it around before spitting it out. Mirawen repeated this a few more times until she was satisfied the taste was no longer on her tongue. Gripping her hands on the sides of the fountain as if she were bracing herself from a fall, she took a deep breath before she began to walk, to where, she did not know.

She wandered through the city streets, her pace quickening until she found herself in the stables, her horse Argo looking down at her from his stall. With swift hands, she placed the brown leather saddle on his back, and secured its straps. Within minutes she had him fully dressed, the last thing she did before opening the gate to his stall was attach the reins to his bridle. Mounting the saddle, she gently urged Argo into a trot through the city streets, until they reached the small gate located at the back of the fifth level of Minas Tirith.

Slowly and carefully she manoeuvred her horse through the narrow path down the back of the mountain, when she saw the treeline of the forest's edge she dug her heels into Argo's sides pushing him into a gallop. It was a path that was rarely used, created as a means of escape from the great stone city during times of war. It had not been used for its purpose in many years, and not many knew of it.

Her cheeks stung as the wind hit her face, causing her hair to whip around and slap her skin, but still she urged her horse to go faster. Everything around them was silent except for the sound of Argo's hooves pressing into the soil of the forest floor. Mirawen slowed him down as they entered a small clearing. There was a stream running through the south end of it, and it was surrounded by bushes covered in beautiful flowers. The sound of the running water made her feel calm. Dismounting, she guided Argo towards the stream so he could rest and have a drink.

Leaving her horse by the stream, she looked around the small area she had discovered, and judging by all the flora, she figured she must be somewhere between Minas Tirith and the city of Lossarnach. She remembered her mentor describing the city she had hailed from as " _The Vale of Flowers."_ She smiled to herself, Ioreth had grown to be someone she held very dear in her heart.

Continuing to explore, she found herself at the edge of a large willow tree; this made her mind wander to the days she spent dueling with her old friend Edwin, and her heart sunk a little. It had been years since they had spoken, and their last encounter had not been a pleasant one, but she did not hold that against him. Mirawen had been selfish in those days, thinking only of herself at the time, but as the years passed she had outgrown those ways. She wished for nothing more than for him to be here in this moment, as she was in need of a friend who would understand the pain she felt, but it was not meant to be. She had been forbidden from speaking to him, and she had followed her father's orders, and now Edwin was gone from Minas Tirith; fulfilling his dream of becoming a Ranger. How she wished things were different.

Brushing the long leaves with her fingers, she moved to sit down at the base of the tree, leaning her back against its trunk, her shock began to wear off and she realized how tired she felt. Letting out a yawn, she allowed herself to close her eyes, " _Just for a little while…"_ The bark scratched at her back through her thin wool dress, though still she found herself drifting to sleep.

Some time later Argo wandered underneath the willow tree and lay down next to his master; with his forehead he started to gently nudge Mirawen in an attempt to wake her. Mirawen learned a couple years ago that she never needed to leave Argo tied up, he was not a horse to wander off, nor did he spook easily. True to his namesake, he was protective over Mirawen, as protective as an animal could be, and he would not leave his master's side for any reason.

Mirawen startled, slowly opening her eyes she came to find Argo rubbing his muzzle against her cheek, she stroked his forehead gently, and stood up slowly with his help. Feeling both physically and emotionally exhausted, she sighed, remembering the reason why she had fled the city so suddenly. She shivered, silently scolding herself for not thinking to grab a cloak, and she looked up at the sky that was starting to darken. Deciding it was time to leave, she quickly mounted her horse.

"Let's go home Argo… it is getting dark. I fear what the night will bring if we linger here any longer." Pressing her heels into his sides, he broke into a gallop to bring his master home safely.

They made it back to the gate as the sky turned to black, the fire from the torches of the guard tower lighting the way. The guard on duty noticed her presence and opened the gate to allow her entry. With a deep breath, she urged Argo into the city, and she willed herself to face the reality that waited for her.

It wasn't until several days later that Boromir and Faramir returned home, and with her father constantly locking himself in his study since Lady Finduilas' passing, she felt truly alone. She did not allow herself to cry, keeping her promise to her mother, she remained strong; she busied herself by working extra hard in the Healing Houses. Ioreth kept a close eye on the young girl, who would not allow herself time to truly mourn her mother's passing. When her brother's finally arrived she had thrown herself into their arms, still she would not cry, and still, she would not see Lord Denethor until their mother's funeral.

The sun made a brief appearance on the day of her mother's service, the rays shining like a spotlight from the heavens on her wake. It was fitting really, her mother had been a light in the city itself, and when the service was over the sun disappeared once more, her light vanishing for good. She had stood between her siblings by their father's side as he gave his speech, the whole time she held tightly onto the pendant she wore around her neck, as if she were holding onto her own mother. For being so wrought with grief, her father was able to pull himself together, the words he spoke were lovely, bringing many to tears. When he finished speaking he then placed the first of the white flowers onto his late wife's casket, followed by Boromir, then Faramir, and lastly Mirawen.

Once Mirawen's flower was set down, she stepped back and those who had come to pay their respects left flowers of their own at their Lady's resting form. Lord Denethor was the first to leave, signalling that the service was over, and the siblings would not see their father until dinner that evening.

The family dined in silence; their father avoiding eye contact with his children, and as soon as his plate was empty he quickly left the hall leaving the three of them alone. Boromir left shortly after, simply bowing his head to say goodnight, Mirawen noticed his eyes were red and brimming with water before he turned and left.

"He is angry with himself." Faramir said, breaking the silence, as Mirawen stared after Boromir's retreating form. "He is angry we could not be here sooner."

"Are you angry?" Mirawen asked turning to him. He nodded, and she said "I am to."

Staring down at his sister's clenched fists, he reached across the table and placed his hands over hers.

"Do not blame yourself Mirawen." He scrutinized.

Lifting her head to meet her brother's eyes, he found a solemn look etched on her face.

"I could not save her." She lamented.

"No one could Mira." He sighed and went on to explain, "She was sick once before like this, and no one could cure her then. I was just a babe, Father blamed me then, did not realize it right away… but overtime I began to see it. I did not understand why he felt such disdain for me, not until I learned how after I was born mother became so ill that we almost lost her. I began to think father was right… that I had made her sick, and I blamed myself, but Boromir… he would not let me, and I will not let you take blame now."

Mirawen smiled weakly at him, over the years she had noticed that their father treated Faramir differently from herself and Boromir, and she saw how Faramir would have to work twice as hard in an attempt to get their father's approval. She felt a pang of guilt for never thinking much of it, another side effect of her once selfish nature. Getting up she sat next to her brother, leaning her head against his shoulder. Faramir wrapped his arm around her and Mirawen returned the embrace.

"She's gone." Mirawen spoke into her brother's shoulder, and his arms tightened around her.

"She will never truly be gone as long as we stay true to each other, family meant everything to her, and we must make sure it means everything to us." He said.

"When did you become so wise brother?" She asked, basking in the comfort of her older brother's arms.

"It comes with age dear sister." He said smiling down at her.

"You sure it has nothing to do with the teachings of a wise old wizard?" She said cheekily, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Mithrandir helps… but only a little." Faramir admitted and the two chuckled amongst themselves. Mirawen spent the evening catching up with Faramir before they decided it was time to say goodnight. He walked her to her chamber and gave her a kiss atop her head before she entered her room. Sleep came easier that night, the feeling of warmth from her blankets lulling her into a deep slumber.

She would spend the next month balancing her time between her studies, her duties as Ioreth's apprentice, and spending time with her brother's before they had to leave again. She only saw her father at meal times as he still kept mostly to himself, though he would acknowledge Boromir from time to time. She noticed her father would avoid her gaze, and she began to think perhaps her father was blaming her, as he had once blamed Faramir. Mirawen felt her heart tighten, and she hoped that her father's avoidance of her was just a temporary side effect of his grief.

The day her brother's left, her father announced that he was promoting Boromir to captain. She walked with them to see them off at the main gate.

"Take care sister." Boromir said kissing the top of his sister's head, "And try not to grow much more… you look more like mother everyday…"

He hesitated a moment, as he looked back at his father whose brows were furrowed upon the mention of his late wife.

Turning back to Mirawen he continued "I fear when I return, I will be fighting off all the men who wish to ask for your hand." He teased her, and she felt a slight blush tinge her cheeks at the thought of men taking notice of her in that way.

"I will save you the trouble brother, and fight them off first." She said and he laughed then.

"I have no doubt you will sister." Boromir chuckled.

"Be safe out there, _Captain_ Boromir." She said proudly, hugging her brother goodbye once more. He placed his hand on her shoulder and turned to bid farewell to his father.

Faramir approached her then, and she swallowed the lump in her throat, as he wrapped his arms around his younger sister.

"Please be safe, Faramir." She said into his shoulder. She would miss both her brother's dearly, but felt that she had grown ever closer to Faramir these past several weeks, their sibling bond deepening.

"I promise, and you must promise to remember what I said." He told Mirawen in return, and he noticed her staring dejectedly in the direction of their father, who had his back turned to the two of them. "Pay no mind to father, his grief will pass with time."

She looked back at him, and promised him she would remember his words. Standing on her tiptoes she reached up and placed a kiss on her brother's cheek, his slight stubble tickling her lips.

"I'll miss you brother." She whispered.

Boromir approached them and announced it was time to go. They said their goodbyes as the two men mounted their horses and led their company out of the gate. She turned around only to see her father was already leaving, so as not to be left alone with her. Closing her eyes she remembered Faramir's words, " _He is grieving… do not blame yourself."_ She stayed planted in her spot, watching her brother's ride across Pelennor fields until the main gate was shut and she could no longer see them.

 **A/N:** _Thank you for reading this chapter, I hope you enjoyed it, I know it was a long one (they won't all be monster chapters I swear)_

 _This one didn't time jump as much as I wanted it to originally, as I went back and read it over I decided to focus the whole chapter around their mother's death. (The next one will be a bit more time-jumpy, and we will get to know Mirawen at several different ages in each chapter as we get closer to the FOTR storyline) Until next time._

 _-Buttercup_


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N:** _Only my OC's belong to me, the rest belong to Tolkien._

 **18 Year Old Mirawen**

A red sun rose over the horizon painting the sky burnt orange, and combined with the black smoke clouds blowing in from Mordor, it appeared as if the sky were on fire. " _When a red sun rises, blood has been spilled in the night…"_ recalling a quote she had once read in a book years ago, Mirawen stared up at the sky above her. As she watched the sky change colors, she could not recall the last time a yellow sun rose; long gone were the days of peace. The air was cool, and a shiver overcame Lady Mirawen who stood in the corridor, her elbows resting against the open window sill, she moved to wrap her arms around herself to stay warm from the autumn breeze.

All was quiet in the Houses of Healing, and she indulged in the silence, fighting to stay awake after an endless night. The past few years, the healers had been kept very busy as more and more attacks were reported across the Anduin, and last night was no exception. Her body ached terribly, her feet sore, and all she wanted to do was sit down a moment, but she knew if she did she would surely fall asleep. She had not yet been dismissed by the warden, and though she had worked through the night, she would not rest until she was released from her post for the day. Propping her head in her hands, she continued to watch the sunrise, the light wind washing over her, helping keep her alert.

Several days ago, the Rangers had reported spotting a large band of Orcs headed South along the Anduin, while their attention was drawn there, a larger group was headed North towards the outpost at Emyn Arnen. Only a small group of men had stayed behind at camp as they had sent a large portion of their forces to defend the river along the South. They were caught off guard when the orcs had reached them the previous day, and though they had succeeded in defending the hills by the river, it was not without losses.

All healers were called to service that night when the citadel guard spotted the group of horses galloping across the fields of Pelennor, horns blowing desperately in the night air, alerting those on duty that they brought many wounded. It was a mad rush as Mirawen and the others prepared for their arrival to the sixth level. They had the apprentices busy inside gathering supplies and readying the beds in the infirmary, while the remaining healers waited out front to meet the wounded.

A guard from the main gate had rode ahead to inform them at least thirty men had reached Minas Tirith on horseback, and many of those wounded suffered fatal injuries. The healers prepared themselves for what was to come, and they had transport carts at the ready to move those who could not walk. Her training completed, Mirawen was now held with high regard as a capable healer, and she waited nervously at the entryway with the others, biting her thumb she prayed that her brother's were okay.

" _Boromir is captain… he would have gone South to lead the charge… he would not have remained behind when they thought the danger was elsewhere… Faramir would have gone with him. Let them be safe… let them be unharmed."_ She repeated to herself as they waited, time seemingly at a standstill.

Ioreth approached her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Here they come." She announced loudly alerting the small group.

The warden then began shouting orders at them, directing everyone where to go. "All those with minor wounds to infirmary, those with more severe injuries are to be tended to first! We have eight rooms ready with three beds per room, those critical will be tended to there. Ioreth…" He called out several other names to work alongside him and Ioreth. While he spoke, Mirawen scanned the crowd of incoming men, and let out a sigh of relief when she did not see her brother's among them.

"Mirawen!" She turned to face the Warden as her called her name, "You are in charge of the infirmary! I leave you with Inweth, Lagor and Thendir. Anything you deem to be critical, send Maerien to one of the uninjured soldiers to help transport them to a room. I have faith in you, you are ready for this. "

Mirawen firmly nodded and began calling out orders of her own to those in her charge, and began directing the soldiers where to bring the wounded. There were at least seventeen non-critical injuries in their care, ranging from stab wounds, head injuries and soldiers who had been pierced with arrows. Tirelessly they worked through the night, the adrenaline keeping them attentive. Mirawen was kept busy, between tending to wounds herself, assisting the other three healers, keeping the infirmary organized, and giving tasks to the apprentices, the night went by in a blur.

By morning, those in the infirmary had all been tended to and were resting, by some miracle there had been no losses. They had been lucky that none in their care appeared to have any sign of infection, but they would keep a close eye on those who were resting. She would have to check in with Ioreth, however, to see how those in worse condition were doing. Peering out the window, Mirawen could tell it was near dawn; wiping the sweat off her brow, she removed her soiled apron and threw it in the basket meant for laundry. Taking a look around the infirmary, she informed Thendir she was stepping outside for some fresh air, and left him in charge.

When the sun was fully risen, Mirawen felt her eyelids getting heavier, and she fought to keep them open. She was now able to see the dark red bloodstains that soiled the parts of her plain grey healers dress that had not been covered by her apron. Her braided hair looking like a frayed piece of rope, she unbraided it and smoothed it out with her hands; and she noticed the white scarf she wore to keep hair out of her face had speckles of red splattered on the ends that hung over her shoulder.

"Here child." She heard a soft voice and she turned around to see Ioreth offering her a cup of steaming liquid. "It is a concoction of my own… it will help keep you awake." and she gave the young girl a knowing look.

Mirawen thanked her, taking the cup she took a slow sip of the hot tea, and it warmed her from the inside; Ioreth then joined her in leaning against the window sill.

"I must be tired Ioreth, for I did not hear you approach." Mirawen said, taking another sip.

"You did well last night, I am proud of you." The older woman said to her matter-of-factly, "Your _mother_ would be proud."

Mirawen felt the sting at the mention of her mother, it had been three years but the loss of Lady Finduilas was a wound that still cut deep. She smiled weakly at Ioreth, "By grace were we able to save those who made it here last night," Mirawen admitted, "One of the soldiers said they lost at least five men on the way to Minas Tirith… and many did not survive the attack."

Ioreth lowered her head and stared into her own cup, "Do not sell yourself short, it is more than just luck that you bore no losses. You have a talent Mirawen, and you did well under pressure." Ioreth stated, scrutinizing the young girl before her tone went softer, "Aye… we lost three men last night... they were too far gone, five are still in serious condition… and those remaining will get better with time, but we can only hope."

They stayed there a while longer, savouring the silence as they finished their drinks, slowly regaining what energy they had left. Ioreth watched the Steward's daughter thoughtfully; Mirawen had become a talented healer, she was passionate in her service, and dedicated to furthering her skill. From her profile, she held her mother's likeness, and Ioreth fondly remembered the day she had brought Mirawen into the world. She had watched the girl grow from a stubborn child who would run through the halls of the Citadel, into a radiant young woman.

Mirawen had lost her childish looks, Ioreth noticed as she studied her silently, her face more slender and lips fuller. Though her dress was not very fitted, you could tell the girl held curves, and Ioreth knew her arms were strong, the lean muscle hidden underneath her loose sleeves. Her waist-length hair was the same color as the fire that burned inside her, a fire that Ioreth could tell she was holding back. Ioreth was a wise old woman, and she knew that Mirawen served a greater purpose than being married off to some Lord, in order to secure a peace treaty between Gondor and who knows where. She also knew that the girl had been lonely since her mother's passing, and she avoided facing those feelings by dedicating herself into her line of work, this had helped her excel quickly, though Ioreth was proud, she also worried for the girl standing next to her.

"There must be a better way." Mirawen said suddenly, interrupting Ioreth from her musings.

Confused, the older woman listened as Mirawen continued to ramble on as if she were having a revelation. Excited, she turned her body to face Ioreth, and she explained, "The soldiers. They have minimal training, when it comes to treating wounds, they are taught how to do a basic stitch, and, and, and to throw on some dressings in hopes of, of, getting them _here_." Ioreth nodded slowly, the words left Mirawen's lips at a fast rate, and she was having trouble keeping up.

Mirawen felt a burst of energy as she went on, "So many lives could be saved if there were someone with proper training… out _there_ ," she gestured with her hands "with them!"

"You mean one of us." Ioreth concluded, catching on.

"Yes!" Mirawen exclaimed. "Think of how many men never reach the city in time, if some of us were stationed to be in the field with them, we could increase their chances of survival... or at least making it to Minas Tirith with better odds then they have now."

"You are suggesting setting up an infirmary in the middle of war torn lands." Ioreth stated, her lips pursed, considering what she had said. "I do not think your father would risk that."

"Not necessarily an infirmary… that would be much too complicated, but if each garrison had even just one skilled healer to travel with them…" Mirawen went on, before Ioreth interrupted her.

"I see... it _is_ a thought. Though, not many of us have the skills to survive in the field. We are not soldiers Mirawen, we would be a burden." Ioreth said.

"Those are skills that can be learned." Mirawen insisted, "Basic defence is all that would be needed. I have some skill... a friend helped teach me long ago, and… I still practice alone sometimes."

"Ah, yes. I had a feeling you might continue despite your parent's wishes." Ioreth acknowledged, noticing the young girls sheepish smile. Shaking her head, she chuckled to herself. "Though I would not wish to see you leave and be closer to danger, I can not stop you…" Mirawen smiled up at her mentor, and opened her mouth to speak, but Ioreth held her hand up. "... _however,_ " she emphasized, "getting the approval from your father will be no easy task."

A look of sadness suddenly appeared upon Mirawen's face, and disappeared just as quickly, sighing she admitted to Ioreth, "I do not think my father cares much what I do these days. He avoids looking at me if he can… and has not met my eyes since before my mother passed… part of me feels as if he blames me… for not being able to find her a cure…"

"That. Is nonsense Mirawen. You were but an apprentice then… if those of us experienced could not help her…" Ioreth sighed, her heart feeling heavy for the young girl. "…no one is to blame. Your father… you… you look so much like her Mirawen." She thought over her next words carefully before continuing to speak "I do not wish to cause you any hurt… but… I think, when your father looks at you… to him… it is as if he sees her… and I believe it must fuel his grief."

Ioreth did not wish to cause her any grief, and so she watched Mirawen carefully as the girl thought over what she had said. Lord Denethor had become bitter in recent years, and it had not gone lost on the old healer. She would never admit outloud, but she held disdain towards the Steward, for causing his daughter to feel this way. The girl had lost her mother, and it would seem as if in some ways, she had lost her father to, at least the father he used to be. Ioreth swore to herself she would be there for the girl when she had no one else to turn to.

"I believe in this idea of yours Mirawen, and you have my support. You should discuss it with the Warden, then bring a proposal to your father." Ioreth felt a sense of pride over how much Mirawen had grown in recent years, "You have the makings of a strong leader."

Perking up at her mentors words of encouragement, Mirawen smiled and let out a chuckle, "I must get it from my brother, it is a shame I was not born a man."

"No." Ioreth said thoughtfully, looking at Mirawen with admiration, and put her hands of each side of her face. "This is all _you_. Do not think that because you were born a woman, that you are not destined for greatness."

Their moment was interrupted by the young apprentice Maerien, who informed them that some breakfast had been sent up for them. Upon the mention of food, their stomachs rumbled, and the two tired woman headed back inside, mouths watering.

After they filled their hungry stomachs, the warden had announced to them that they would all begin to work in rotating shifts in order to provide round the clock care to those who needed monitoring, and allowing the healers time to rest in turns. Mirawen would be in the second group to have a break, meaning she had four more hours to push through. She started her rounds in the infirmary, checking in on those in her service the previous night, stopping only to clean and redress wounds as needed.

The last hour of her shift, she decided to see if Ioreth needed any assistance with the more critical patients.

"I am about done here Mirawen, but if you could check in on the young man in the room down the hall to the right… he has not yet woken up. I changed his upper body dressings not but an hour ago… his leg needs to be checked again... nasty puncture wound that one… if you would check for infection when you clean it out… Poor boy, he's quite lucky to be alive." She spoke to the girl, not once looking up from her work, and Mirawen left the room.

She gathered the supplies she would need, and headed down the hall. Upon entering the room, she saw a familiar face laying on the bed, and she nearly dropped the items in her arms. His near black hair had grown, now touching his shoulders, and he donned a smooth, yet rugged beard, making him look older. " _It suits him…"_ she thought. Though his abdomen up to his left shoulder was wrapped in bandages, she could see the definition of his muscles, where she had remembered him to be quite lean, he now appeared very strong.

It was only when she remembered Ioreth's words " _...lucky to be alive…"_ that she remembered why she was there. Then did she notice how pale his skin appeared, and how shallow his breaths were. His eyes, the color of dark chocolate, remained closed, and she wanted nothing more than for him to open them. Placing her tools and supplies on the tray next to the bed, she set to work on tending to his leg wound. When she pulled back the blankets and began to unravel the blood soaked bandages, she looked away. Mirawen felt a lump rise in her throat as her eyes watered, and she covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh Edwin…" she said aloud, sounding distraught though no one could hear her, and she set to work.

 **A/N:** _Thank you again for reading! And thank you to my new followers, and those who have favorited this story, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. What will Lord Denethor think of his daughter's proposal? And Edwin is back, will he survive? Until next time…_

 _-Buttercup_


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N:** _I cannot take ownership of any character created by the brilliant mind of Tolkien, only my OCs._

Three days later, and still Edwin did not wake, Mirawen spent all her time tending to him, food was brought to her, and she left the room only if she needed to. The warden could not convince the girl to leave even when her shifts were over. Tirelessly, she worked to ensure his leg wound did not fester, and she felt some relief on the second day when his fever broke.

Ioreth worried about Mirawen, though she did not recognize the boy, she knew he must have some meaning to her. Walking past the room, she saw that Mirawen had fallen asleep, her head rested on the bed near his waist. Ioreth entered the room, and covered the girl in a blanket, carefully so as not to wake her, she noticed that Mirawen held his hand in her own.

Sighing, she made to leave the room when she heard a cough, thinking it was Mirawen, she rushed to check on the girl. Ioreth heard another cough, and when Mirawen lay still, her head shot up to see that they boy had woken up, and was looking around the room.

Ioreth stood, walking to the table across the room, she poured the boy a glass of water, bringing it to him as he coughed once more. "Drink it slowly." She told him, and he took the glass with his free hand. "How do you feel?"

With a raspy voice he answered her, "I've seen better days…"

"Ioreth." She finished for him.

"Ioreth…" He repeated, he felt a weight against him and he looked down noticing a sea of red curls on the bed by his waist. " _Mirawen…?"_ He thought to himself, shocked to see the friend he had lost many years ago.

He felt ashamed for the way he had left things with her, when he found out what she had done, he wanted to go to her, but his father had cautioned him not to. He had heard she'd become a healer, and he swallowed the lump in his throat when he noticed his hand in hers. Looking up at Ioreth he opened his mouth, though the old woman seemed to know what he was about to ask.

She answered, "She's not left your side in three days. She saw to it personally that your wounds did not become infected. You must mean a lot to her."

"We were good friends once… though the last time we spoke, I was cruel to her…" He said bowing his head in shame.

"Ahh." Ioreth said coming to a sudden realization, "You are Edwin." He looked surprised and she continued, "Yes, I know all about your secret rendezvous in the gardens, that girls tells me almost everything. She does not blame you for what was said… and it would seem she never stopped caring." She raised her eyebrow at him and nodded to their intertwined hands.

Mirawen stirred slightly, her hair slipping aside to uncover her face. His breath caught in his throat as he took in her appearance. The last time he saw her, was on her twelfth birthday, he noticed how her cheekbones were more defined, and her lips full, their rosy color contrasting nicely against her porcelain skin. She was no longer a girl; her eyes started to open slowly and his heart leapt when he was finally able to gaze into her emerald pools.

Mirawen had finished redressing his leg, when sleep finally overcame her. She had rinsed the salve off her hands and made to sit next to the bed. She brushed the hair out his face, and was glad to see some of his color returning. Taking hold of his hand, she lay her head down and allowed herself to rest.

She did not know how long she had been asleep when she came to, she was able to hear voices, causing her to wake. One sounding an awful lot like Ioreth, the other, a man's voice, deeper, unfamiliar and yet sounding so familiar at the same time. Slowly, she felt her eyelids open, and blinking she looked up to see a pair of deep brown eyes staring down at her. Realization hit her, and she sat up quickly eyes widening as she took in the site before her.

"I will leave you two to catch up, I am sure there is much to discuss." Ioreth smirked, and left the pair alone. Outside the room, Ioreth smiled to herself, and she held a hand to her heart, grateful that the boy had woken up, she knew Mirawen needed a friend.

She was breathtaking, he noted, as they stared at each other in silence for a few moments, neither of them sure what to say to the other. Mirawen felt a blush rise to her cheeks when she thought to herself how handsome he looked. Brushing that thought aside, she made to stand up, but Edwin held her hand firmly, keeping her in place.

"Mirawen…" He started to say, stroking her knuckles tenderly with his thumb, they held each other's gaze, and despite the dark circles under her eyes due to lack of sleep, to him, she still looked like an angel.

"Edwin… bless you, you're awake."

"I hear I have you to thank for that." He smiled at her, and she blushed. "Mirawen I…"

"Edwin, it is okay." She said to him, knowing where he was going with his words. "It was a long time ago."

He nodded, and frowning he said, "I wanted to see you… to tell you I knew what you did, to thank you, but…"

"I did to… want to see you. I wanted to apologize, I was selfish back then, it took me a long time to realize that. My father forbade me to see you, and I listened… I did not wish for any further consequences."

He squeezed her hand reassuringly, "You are a healer now."

"Yes." She chuckled at his directness, "...and you are a Ranger."

"I thought by now your father would have married you off and sent you away." He thought aloud, "I am glad he has not."

"Me too." She said smiling down at him, before a solemn look appeared on her face. "He does not think much of me these days… ever since…" she trailed off.

"I am sorry about your mother Mirawen. I… wished then I could be there for you, but… I was not given leave to return."

"I know." She said, then quickly changed the subject. "You must be hungry."

He nodded, "Starving."

She squeezed his hand and told him she would be back shortly, and she went to grab them both something to eat. He watched her leave the room with a smile on his face, though he lay heavy on the bed, he felt light as air. She returned a while later, with a bowl of soup and some bread for each of them. They dined, and spent the remainder of afternoon catching up, until Edwin eventually fell back asleep.

Mirawen spent the next several weeks visiting Edwin when she could, and they fell back into a natural rhythm despite their years apart. While he regained his strength she told him of her years training with Ioreth, and how she still managed to find time to practice her swordsmanship. He told her of his adventures in Ithilien, and of the many skirmishes he had found himself in, how he had fought beside her brother's many times. She shared her vision with him, and he encouraged her to go to her father with this idea. With all the troubles they faced in these times, they needed all the able bodies they could, and if they could save more lives… surely Lord Denethor would see the value in that.

They worked together on the proposal she would present to her father, bouncing ideas off of each other, she wrote them all down; this went on several more days until she felt it was perfect. She practiced what she would say in front of both Edwin and Ioreth, and they all decided she was ready. Mirawen first approached the Warden with her plan, and though hesitant at first, he agreed to help her convince her father, on the condition that they would also train several of the soldiers more advanced techniques as well.

A few more weeks went by, and Edwin was feeling stronger by the day. The warden decided upon checking over his wounds, that he was ready to be helped out of bed, to practice his walking again. He had taken a spear to his thigh, Mirawen had learned, and while the wounds on his upper body had healed, his leg took longer. The healers remained unsure as to whether he would regain full function of his leg, or if he would ever be able to walk on his own again. Mirawen, however, held hope; Edwin was strong, and she was sure with time, he would.

It took many days of practicing, taking just a couple of assisted steps several times a day; by the tenth day, Edwin was able to take steps on his own, and though he walked with a limp, the healers had high hopes it would get better over time. He was given a walking stick to aid him, and they had decided that Edwin was strong enough to attempt a longer walk outside of the Houses of Healing.

Two months Edwin had been back in her life, and she felt as if he had never left. She had always wondered what it would be like if they were to cross paths again, at first she had thought it would be awkward for both of them, but she was grateful that it was not. They were both older now, more mature, and Mirawen noticed that over the past eight and a half weeks, she felt warmer when he was near. She could feel her heart fluttering when he smiled at her, and when she wasn't with him, she longed to be.

Ioreth had noticed that Mirawen seemed happier in these grim days, the happiest she had seen her in a long time, and she had a suspicion it had something to do with a young Ranger named Edwin. Ioreth passed the news on to Mirawen that Edwin had been prescribed longer walks, and suggested that perhaps she be the one to accompany him. Mirawen smiled, and felt her cheeks go warm with blush at Ioreth's knowing look." _She deserves a bit of happiness."_ The old woman thought to herself as she watched Mirawen enter the boy's room. When Mirawen entered the room, she felt that warm bubbly feeling rise up in her chest again, and she returned Edwin's smile.

"Mira, I was just thinking of you." Edwin said warmly, and she turned to hide her reddening cheeks from his gaze. "I thought you might like to accompany me for a walk in the gardens? Ioreth suggested I get out of the room."

" _Funny…"_ Mirawen thought, " _... it would seem she suggested the same to me."_

"I would like that." She answered him with a shy smile.

He went to grab his walking stick, offering Mirawen his arm, and the two left the Houses of Healing at a slow pace heading towards the gardens. They walked side by side in a comfortable silence until they found themselves at the garden's edge, in front of familiar tree.

He looked at Mirawen and smiled down at her, "It has been many years since I've been back here." He stated.

She smiled up at the boy, now a man, who stood a head taller than her, and let go of his arm. Taking a few steps forward, Mirawen parted the leaves allowing Edwin to enter first.

"Hmm…" He mused as he took in the familiar sights. "Nothing seems to have changed… though it does appear as if our friend here has taken quite the beating." He gestured to the tree trunk before them, where many small pieces of bark were missing, and turned to face her with a smirk.

She let out a small laugh, "Guilty…" she admitted. "I have taken to throwing knives… it seems to be a good stress release for me."

He cocked his head to the side, admiring her handiwork and said, "I am surprised you managed to hit the tree at all, from what I remember your archery skills were severely lacking." She smacked his arm playfully and he feigned injury, yelping. "Hey that's my bad arm!"

"I've changed those bandages plenty of times to know which one's your good arm." She said smirking at him in a " _You cannot fool me."_ kind of way.

He laughed and approached the tree, running his hand down the bark lightly, tracing the marks her knives left on its trunk. Without turning to her he asked, "Have you talked to your father yet?"

"No." She said, embarrassed to admit she was nervous to speak to him.

"Mira, your proposal is perfect, you have been practicing for weeks, what is holding you back?" He turned to face her then.

"Truth be told… I have not spoken to him much in these past years, and when I have… my brother's, or other members of the court are around… never… alone." She admitted.

He leaned his stick against the tree and limped towards her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, causing Mira to shiver as her skin became covered in goosebumps.

"You need not be afraid of him Mira. Lord Denethor is a strategist, and he will see your value, the value of _your_ plan." His voice went softer, and she noticed his hand lingered on her face.

Their eyes met, and a warm feeling grew inside of her, as they stood there in silence for several moments. She noticed his brown eyes held an intensity as he stared down at her, and she wondered what was going on inside his mind. Suddenly, he took a step closer, and she could feel his warm breath on her face. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt it was trying to escape her chest. As their faces inched closer together, his fingers, calloused from years in the wilderness, lightly traced her jawline. Her breathing intensified, she had never felt this way before. His hand cupped her chin gently, and he brought his lips down to meet hers, closing the gap between them.

The kiss was soft, yet held so much emotion, and she returned his kiss eagerly, slightly parting her lips. The kiss lasted several seconds, but felt like an eternity, her lips tingling and feeling suddenly cold when their faces eventually parted. He stared down at her lovingly, letting out a wistful sigh.

"I have been wanting to do that for a while now." He admitted, and Mira blushed.

"I am glad you did." She said, resting her head against his shoulder, and she could not help but notice how perfectly she fit there.

They spent the rest of the afternoon sitting underneath the tree, chatting, and stealing kisses, before they decided it was time to head back when they noticed the sun beginning to set. Mirawen helped him to his feet, and he offered her his arm like before. She leaned her head on his shoulder as they ventured slowly back to the Healing Houses. The only sound between them came from his walking stick clicking against the stone floor beneath their feet. As they walked, she replayed their first kiss over and over in her head, smiling to herself.

They made it back to his room, and stood at the doorway for a moment. Smiling at each other, he raised her hand to his lips leaving a soft kiss on her knuckles.

"You know," He said breaking the silence, not letting go of her hand. "If I can take a spear to the leg and walk again… I think you can face your father."

She nodded, and said thoughtfully "Thank you. For believing in me."

"I've always believed in you Mira, you just need to believe in yourself sometimes too."

"Goodnight Edwin." And reluctantly, he let her hand go.

"Goodnight Mira." He looked both ways down the hall to make sure no one was nearby, he pulled her closer to him, and kissed her tenderly on the lips once more, letting his hand linger on the back of her head for a moment.

Ioreth poked her head out of the room she was in, her face hidden in the shadows and she watched their exchange. She smiled to herself as she watched them say their goodnights and seal it with a kiss, ducking back into the room as Mirawen walked by. " _Ahh, young love."_ she thought to herself, vowing to protect it at all costs, knowing that despite his seeming lack of interest in his daughter, this was a union Lord Denethor would not approve of.

 **A/N:** _A little bit of a fluffy chapter,showcasing Mira's first love. How will Lord Denethor react when he finds out? And what will he think of his daughter's plan proposal? What will happen to Mira and Edwin? Until next time._

 _-Buttercup_

 _**Inspo for Edwin is Ben Barnes ( a la Prince Caspian: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)**_


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N:** _As per usual I only own my OC's. Thank you to the new favorites and followers, I'm glad you're enjoying the story._

Eyes glued to the door before her, she waited nervously, going over the words she would say in her head over and over. Lord Denethor was having a meeting with Boromir, in regards to the uprise in aggressive attacks. Mirawen could hear them discussing numbers, and wondered if Boromir spoke of the enemy's forces, their own, or their losses. Boromir had arrived early that morning, and Mirawen only caught a glimpse of her brother as he headed straight to meet with their father. Waiting, anxiously, she remembered Edwin's words to her the previous day and slowed her breathing. " _Focus Mira… you have this…. Breathe in. Breathe out."_ she told herself. Suddenly the voices from behind the closed door raised, and she took a step closer to listen in.

"Everyday we lose more and more men. We need more forces to keep the enemy at bay. Reach out to Rohan father… surely King Theoden will send help." Boromir pleaded firmly.

"I understand Boromir, but King Theoden is of no use, he will not help us." Her father answered. "Let us break. We will discuss this later, you are travel weary, rest and come back to me when you are of clear mind."

"Yes Father." She could tell from Boromir's sour tone, he was not pleased with their father's disinterest. Each day, Lord Denethor spent more time alone behind closed doors, only making appearances when necessary. Each day, his heart growing more bitter, and she knew she needed to act now before her father became more unreasonable.

The door opened and Boromir stepped into the hall, visibly frustrated, he ran his hands through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh. His expression, however, quickly softened when he saw his sister standing in the hall, stepping forward he wrapped his arms around her, scooping her up off the ground into a spin. No words needed to be spoken between them, their tight embrace saying it all. It had been the longest stretch of time they had gone without seeing each other, near a year.

She stood taller, Boromir noticed as he softly placed her feet back down, she was a woman grown now. As he held her he could smell hints of lavender in her waist-length hair that rested against his broad chest. " _Just like mother…"_ he thought wistfully.

"It is good to see you sister." He said, smiling at her.

"And you, Boromir. What news do you bring?" She asked him.

"Nothing good." He sighed, "Though, I think you already knew that. How long have you been standing here?" He said with a raised eyebrow.

"Long enough…" She smirked, "I think I can help. I need to speak to father… but…"

"You are afraid to do it alone." He finished for her. Their father's attitude had changed towards his daughter since their mother's passing, this had not gone lost on Boromir. He resented the fact that his father favored him over his two siblings so openly, but he would not let his resentment show. Instead, he did everything he could to talk them up and defend them whenever he was with his father.

"Let us grab something to eat first." Boromir said, "We will come back in an hour… hopefully father will be more open to reason by that time."

"That sounds lovely." She said, taking her brother's arm when he offered it to her. "Now… tell me everything… how is Faramir?" She trailed off, voice echoing as they walked down the hall away from their father's study.

An hour passed and they returned, Boromir lightly knocking on the door before them. A cool voice answered.

"Come in."

They entered the room to see Lord Denethor at his desk, and he slowly turned around, his face dropping when he saw his daughter with Boromir. He looked away quickly before he could meet her eyes; the same green eyes that haunted him every night in his dreams.

"Father," Boromir started "Mirawen has a proposal for you… something that could help us..."

He _hmphed_ condescendingly from his seat. What could his daughter possibly know about war and strategy? What did she have to offer?

"You should listen to what she has to say father." He said again, nudging her forward.

Her father turned to the side, and she could only see his profile in the candlelight, casting a warm glow against his cold features. Taking a deep breath, she began to speak the words she had been practicing for weeks. She started out shakey, looking back at Boromir he gave her an encouraging smile, and her demeanour became more confident.

"... I've spoken to the Warden. He agrees this would be most wise in protecting our men, and our numbers. Several healers have already volunteered for training, _if_ you would agree to this father." she finished, and waited for Lord Denethor to respond.

The room was silent, as they waited with bated breath for him to respond. Their father sat appearing to be in deep thought, his hand stroking his chin as he contemplated all that she had said. He had to admit, it _was_ a good idea, though he could not bring himself to say it out loud. He suddenly moved his hand to rest on his lap, and turned to face her brother.

"And what do you make of this Boromir?" He asked his son, and Captain of his armies.

"It is the best chance we have father." He answered honestly, stepping forward he placed a hand on Mirawen's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

"Then we will see it done. Mirawen..." He said, addressing his daughter. Though it pained him to look upon her as she reminded him so much of his late wife, he glanced up. Forcing himself, he looked into her eyes and felt a sharp stab in his heart. Closing his eyes, he could see his Finduilas, and he looked away from Mirawen just as quickly as his eyes met hers. "I leave this in your charge, work with the Warden and have him report to me in two days; I expect a list of the men volunteering by dusk. Boromir, tomorrow you will meet with Berin to set up training for the healers, I want them ready in six months time."

"Yes father." Boromir said, bowing his head, and Lord Denethor turned back to his desk.

"Father…" Mirawen interjected, her father's back stiffening at her voice. "I am quite adept at healing… and I have some practice in defensive combat unlike the others… I wish to be in the field. I am ready."

Her voice was confident, and he considered her request. Boromir's eyes widened at his sister, surely his father would not allow this. Lord Denethor loved his daughter, though he had a hard time showing it these days. War was not a woman's place, " _... though she would be going as healer…"_ and he thought to himself, perhaps, if his daughter was away, he would stop seeing his wife's ghost roaming the halls. He remained silent for several moments before coming to a decision.

"You will train with Berin." He answered firmly, "Starting tomorrow you are to be in the training yard every day to sharpen your skills, I expect you ready in two months time."

"Thank you father, I will be." She said, holding back her excitement. She bowed her head and took her leave as her father dismissed her.

"Boromir." Lord Denethor called, halting him. "You do not agree with me." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Forgive me father, but I do not." Boromir answered "She is young, and naive. She does not know what is out there. If you cared…"

Lord Denethor interrupted him, "She knows what she is getting herself into Boromir, she had seen the aftermath of war plenty of times. From what I hear she is a talented healer, you will benefit greatly having her out there with you. If this is what she wants then so be it."

"She is going to get herself killed!" Boromir exclaimed.

"Then see to it that she does not." He answered his son, sounding detached. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed Boromir, who stormed out.

The next two months went by quickly; Mirawen spent her time between her duties as healer, Edwin, and training with Berin and the others. Edwin would accompany her to the training grounds each day to watch her, he was impressed to see how much she improved in a short amount of time, even her archery had improved, as she managed to get the arrow closer to the center target. He admired how passionate she was, though part of him did not want to see her go, he was proud of her all the same.

The day before she was set to leave, Boromir returned to Minas Tirith with a small company that would escort her to Ithilien, bringing with them plenty of supplies they needed. He was not keen on having her out there, he knew not what war would do to his sister, and it worried him. From the corridor above the grounds, he watched his sister spar with another soldier. She was quick, he had to admit, though he hoped she would never have to find herself in close proximity with an army of orcs.

From his spot, he noticed a young man watching his sister affectionately. "Curious…" Boromir said to himself stroking his beard, if he didn't know any better, he would say it was a look of love etched on the young man's face. Squinting his eyes, he recognized the man to be Edwin, son of Berin, and the boy Mirawen had spent much of her time with when she was a child. He watched them walk away together, and he felt somewhat torn. He was happy for his sister, to find love in these times, but he knew it was a union his father would never allow.

Arm in arm, Edwin escorted Mirawen back to her chambers, it was a bittersweet moment. He was proud of Mirawen, she was finally doing what her heart longed for, but at the same time, he wished she would stay. They arrived at her door, and turned to look at one another. " _This was it…"_ she thought to herself.

Edwin took her hands in his and let out the breath he was holding. "I wish we had more time." He admitted.

She smiled and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "It will not be long before you join me out there."

He sighed, his recovery would be long and tedious, his limp was still very prominent and he could not walk for long periods of time without pain, though he hid it from her. It would be a while yet before he was deemed fit enough to return to his post as Ranger. "I will miss you Mira… I feel like I just got you back…" He whispered to her, stroking her face lovingly.

They stared at each other in silence, getting lost in one another's eyes, and in that moment they did not care who saw them. Edwin stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her, he moved her head gently to rest against his shoulder.

She looked up at him as his fingers played with her long hair the color of fall leaves, "I will miss you to Edwin, so much." She sighed, content to stay in his strong arms forever, listening to his heart beat in his chest.

At that moment Boromir entered the hallway that lead to his chambers, which happened to be directly across from his sister's. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the two of them at her door, Edwin's back faced him, blocking him from Mirawen's sight. Not wanting to interrupt their goodbye, he turned slowly walking back around the corner and he waited.

Edwin took Mirawen's face in his hands and closed the distance between them. Their chests pressed together they could feel the other's heart pounding, Mirawen wrapped her arms around Edwin's neck, holding him hard against her, not wanting this moment to end. She parted her lips, allowing his tongue entry; she felt as if her feet were floating off the ground. With one hand around the small of her back, and his other tangled in her hair, Edwin kissed her passionately, trying to relay as much emotion into this one kiss as possible. It would be their last before she left the next morning, their one last stolen moment before she was gone, neither knowing when she would return.

"Edwin… I…" She panted, feeling breathless when their lips finally parted.

"I love you Mira." He confessed, pulling her in for one last embrace before they parted.

She felt her heart burst, and a million tiny butterflies danced in her stomach as he declared his love for her. "I love you to." She said tenderly. Standing on her toes, she kissed him softly on the lips, as she ran her hands through his dark hair.

She pulled away slowly, their foreheads resting against one another, they smiled. He placed a kiss on her forehead before they reluctantly pulled apart, and Mirawen opened the door to her chamber, turning to him one last time she said softly, "Goodnight Edwin."

"Goodnight Mira."

Neither one of them were able to bring themselves to say the words goodbye. He held her hand as long as he could, their arms stretching until only the tips of their fingers touched as he watched her enter the room. He took in the appearance of the beautiful girl he loved so strongly, burning her image into his memory. They smiled softly at one another as her face disappeared behind the closing door.

When her door clicked shut, and Edwin let out a sigh, lingering for just a moment as he collected himself before turning down the hall to head to his own home. He had been discharged from the Healing Houses a few weeks ago and had moved back into the home he shared with his mother and father on the fourth level of the city. He jumped slightly, startled from his thoughts when he noticed Boromir crossed his path.

"Lord Boromir." He addressed, bowing his head. He did his best to suppress his nerves in front of Boromir, in an attempt to hide the fact that he had just shared an intimate moment with the Captain of Gondor's sister.

"Edwin." He nodded at the younger man standing before him, smirking he said. "I thank you for escorting my sister to her chambers."

Edwin's face turned red when he saw Boromir's knowing look, he opened his mouth to come up with some excuse. Boromir patted his shoulder, chuckling under his breath as he did so. Shaking his head slightly he left the boy standing in the hall and entered his own chambers.

The next morning Mirawen stood at the end of her bed, staring down at the items laid out in front of her. She tediously checked and rechecked that she had absolutely everything, listing off the items in her head as she did so. Ioreth and the Warden had met with her the day before and gifted her with some items made specially for her. A brown leather pack Ioreth had called " _A MedBag"_ that, when opened, would unfold to lay flat. In little pockets it held all the tools and medicines she would need in an organized fashion. They had also gifted her a smaller leather pouch of the same color, it had brass clips so she could connect it to her scabbard belt. The pouch contained special wrappings to use for collecting any healing herbs and plants she came across. Lastly, Ioreth had given her a small notebook filled with illustrations and descriptions of herbs deemed safe, as well as a quick reference guide of recipes for many of the salves they used in the Healing Houses.

She went over her mental list one last time, the items organized on her large bed, which she would soon learn she had taken for granted. Once satisfied that everything was accounted for, she wandered towards her vanity, picking up her brush with delicate hands she began running it through her long hair, untangling the knots caused by sleep. Placing the brush back down, she began to braid her hair like her mother had taught her. She twisted her stands, and tied the ends with leather string. Once finished, she admired her handiwork in the mirror, two strands ran down the top of her head and met at the back to form one large braid, while on the sides were two smaller braids wound tightly just past her ears, where they hung down her back.

She took her time getting dressed, feeling all of a sudden anxious, she was accustomed to wearing a dress each day, and she realized that she would miss the comforts of familiarity while she was out in the wilderness. Her father had commissioned for special clothing and armour to be made to fit her; she had tried on some of Faramir's old clothing, but it hung too loose and felt awkward on her slender frame. After changing into her small clothes, she slipped on a pair of dark brown breeches, it felt strange to her, as she was not used to having fabrics cling so tightly to her legs. Next, she put on a fitted black undershirt, meant to keep her warm, before pulling the navy blue tunic over her head. The tunic was slightly looser than the undershirt, it cinched slightly at her waist, flowing out it rested just below her hips. Her handmaiden Lenniel arrived then, just in time to help Mirawen into her armour. She had managed to get her leg and arm braces on just fine, but was having trouble getting into her doublet. Once they had gotten it over her head and her arms were in place, Lenniel showed her how to tighten it.

"It laces up the sides like this you see." Lenniel said. Watching her demonstrate on one side, Mirawen then did the other side herself, making a mental note to remember how to do it herself so she wouldn't appear a fool in front of the men, especially her brothers.

"How do I look Lenniel?" Mirawen asked, giving herself a once over in the mirror, she ran her hands along the strange clothing. Feeling slightly uncomfortable at her appearance, she began to have some doubts.

"Like a warrior princess milady." She answered, sensing her Lady's insecurities, "Gondor's own shieldmaiden."

Mirawen smiled, forgetting her moment of doubt, Lenniel's words brought her confidence back to the surface, and she looked at her reflection once more. This time, she admired her new look, the leather armour, the same dark brown color of her medical pack, made her feel strong. The white tree of Gondor stitched across the chest of her doublet in gold, she would wear it with pride. " _It's finally happening..."_ she thought to herself, before lifting her arms so Lenniel could help her fasten her belt. She slipped into her brown boots and laced them, then slid her brand new short sword, a gift from her father, into its scabbard.

Grabbing her pack from the bed, she slipped her arms into its leather straps until it rested comfortably on her shoulders, then attached the smaller pouch to her belt. She opened the pouch to slip the journal from Ioreth into it. Her eyes landing on shining metal, and she smiled as she picked up the dagger that was gifted to her many years ago. Holding it against her chest she closed her eyes, feeling her heart burst with what she could only describe as love. Touching her fingers to her lips, she felt a slight blush warm her cheeks as she remembered the passionate farewell her and Edwin had shared the previous night. Slipping the dagger into the smaller sheath strapped to her leg, she turned and embraced Lenniel in a tight hug.

"Be safe out there milady." Lenniel said, holding back tears, Mirawen gave her a look and she she quickly corrected herself, chuckling "... I mean... _Mirawen_."

"Much better, friend." Mirawen answered. "I promise I will. Take care of yourself Lenniel, I will be back before you know it."

Throwing her forest green cloak over her shoulders, she tied it into place; the cloak was meant to both keep her warm, and hidden from enemies. Taking one more look around her chambers, the last thing she did was slip her mother's pendant underneath her tunic where it would remain safe. " _I will be strong mother."_ she thought and she headed down to the stables where she was to meet the others in her company.

Atop her horse Argo, they rode slowly through the city towards the main gate, Ioreth and some of the other healers had come to see them off. She rode beside her brother, who still had not fully accepted her joining them. Though he admitted that her skills had greatly improved, and that they would benefit from her talent as a healer, he vowed he would not let any harm come to her. Boromir would never be able to forgive himself if it did.

Mirawen's eyes met her father's for a brief moment and for the first time in many years he held her gaze, though he did not smile, his look was warm. He nodded, his way of saying farewell to her and Boromir. The gate opened slowly, and revealed the morning sun beaming down, casting a golden glow on the vast green fields of Pelennor. She took this to be a good omen, granting them safe travels as the sun lit their way.

Mirawen scanned the crowd a final time, her heart jumping when she found who she was looking for. Edwin waved at her, and she returned it with a bright smile, their eyes not leaving one another until Boromir made the call to ride out. She squeezed her legs gently, clicking her tongue Argo began to move forward with the other horses. Matching their pace, they broke out into a full gallop once the entire company was on the field. The gates closed behind them, and she rode at the front next to Boromir, just like she had always dreamed. Not once did she look back at the city she was leaving behind, it was time now to only go forward.

 **A/N:** _Okay, I released this one early, I'm definitely getting eager to get to the movie plot! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, how will Mira fare in the wilds of Ithilien? And will Boromir come around? Thank you for reading!_

 _Until next time,_

 _-Buttercup._


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N:** _I only own my OC's (currently Mira and Edwin) and the rest belong to Tolkien._

 **23 Year Old Mirawen**

It was shortly after dawn, and the sun peered down through the trees where the weary rangers of Gondor had made their camp the previous night. The small fire, only big enough to keep them warm so as not to alert the enemy of their whereabouts, was now nothing more than dark smoke dancing in the crisp morning air. Faramir had been on watch, upon seeing the beginnings of daylight peeking out from behind the dark grey clouds, he stood from his spot and signalled to Huron, the other soldier who'd been on watch duty with him, that he was going to do a quick perimeter check. Picking his bow up off the ground, he adjusted the strap of his quiver to rest more comfortably on his aching shoulders.

Faramir pulled his hood over his over his head, blending in with the woodlands around him as he scouted the tree line, his eyes and ears alert. They had been following a large group of orcs on foot for three days, the plan was to follow them just before they reached the hidden refuge of Henneth Anun, where Boromir and his army waited. The enemy would be trapped between the two armies, and there would be nowhere for them to flee. It would be a certain victory on their part, so long as Faramir and his men were not spotted by the enemy first.

Tensing at a slight rustle in the bushes up ahead, Faramir stepped back quietly to hide himself behind a tree trunk. He pressed his back up against the bark and counted to three, quickly nocking an arrow on to his bow he took aim and pulled back on the string. He stepped out of his hiding spot ready to shoot, only to let out a sigh. He lowered his bow and put the arrow back in its quiver when he recognized the red curls that belonged to his sister.

"You shouldn't be wandering around Mira." He chastised, stepping towards her. "I could have killed you.

"Well it's a good thing I am not wandering." She retorted, staring him down, "And I highly doubt that brother, I saw you long before you even _heard_ me coming."

Rolling his eyes he said, "What are you doing then? You should be resting, we need to get moving soon."

"I was scouting our path as sleep would not come to me last night." She said, her eyes nervously scanning up ahead she gave him an intense look, "We need to wait a little longer before we leave camp."

Faramir sighed, and they began to walk back to their camp. "You shouldn't be scouting alone Mira, you could have been caught, or killed. Next time let someone know, and at least take one of the men with you. Boromir would never forgive me if I let you die under my command…"

"Huron saw me leave, besides I am quicker alone." She reasoned. Faramir clenched his jaw, there was no winning with his sister, she was right, she was quick, though he wished she would not be so reckless. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her on his watch.

"Faramir…" she continued, the leaves crunching beneath their feet as they walked side by side. "...the orcs. They are closer than we originally thought, not but an hour ahead… we need to wait here a little longer, allow the distance to grow, or this will be for nought."

Mirawen had done more than enough to prove her worth these past few years, not just as healer, but as an able fighter, and strategist. She was a quick thinker, and able to see the bigger picture. This plan of attack had been partly her idea, knowing they were heading North from Minas Morgul, she suggested they send a group out to get around and behind the enemy, surrounding them. Boromir had admitted to Faramir he wished he had thought of it himself, though he would never say it to his sister, lest her head grow as big as an oliphant's. This was the largest band of orcs they would face in several years, the largest Mirawen had ever seen.

"Come, we should tell the others. You should rest when we get back sister." Though Faramir had been upset with his sister for going off alone, he was grateful. Had Mira not gone scouting, they would have resumed their pace, finding themselves in an open battle, far from where they needed to be, and their plan would have failed.

Back at their small campsite, they reported Mirawen's findings to the men.

"Take rest, we leave in an hour. Once we leave, we do not stop. I know you are all weary… but it is almost done." Faramir addressed the group before entering his own tent to get some sleep himself.

Mirawen had done more than enough to prove her worth these past few years, he thought to himself, as he lay down on his bedroll to get some rest, if only for a little while. Not only as a healer, the original purpose of her being here, but also as an able fighter, and a keen thinker, which made her quite the strategist. This plan of attack had been partly her idea, from what they had knew, the orcs were heading North from Minas Morgul, their numbers were great, far greater than they'd faced in many years. Mirawen had suggested that they send another group around the enemy, get behind them and attack them from both sides, trapping them in the process.

Boromir had admitted to him that he wished he had thought of it himself, though he would never say it to their sister, " _...lest her head grow as large as an Oliphant's!"_ Boromir had said, the two of them laughing heartily. Faramir's thoughts drifted off and lulled him into a light slumber, only to be awoken not an hour later. As soon as their makeshift camp was packed away, they were off, weapons at the ready.

Boromir stood at the far end of the field, breathing in the air that smelled of iron from the blood soaked field, and he observed his men working around him. The plan had been a success, and all three hundred orcs lay slaughtered in the field, those that had managed to escape the fray, were swiftly taken out by the archers who waited, hidden in the trees and the rocks of the mountain. They were not without their own casualties of course, those who were able, worked to pile the carcuses and set fire to them, while others were directed to carry their own dead back to their headquarters for a proper burial.

Scanning the field, his eyes landed on Mirawen, who could be seen giving orders to her small team of healers as they tended to the wounded men, setting up a triage system to prioritize the injuries. It was something she had come up with after her third round in the field two years ago; it was a carefully thought out system designed to help decide which wounds were more urgent. While the trained healers would tend to the severely wounded, the soldiers with some skill would treat the others until the healers could get to them.

"It's impressive, is it not?" Faramir said, approaching his older brother.

"Hmm?" Boromir said, his eyes never leaving his sister.

"Mira." Faramir answered, nodding his head in her direction.

Boromir had to admit, it was. He'd had his doubts at first, arguing with his father over his sister many times, he had thought she would be a burden. He'd told Mirawen so himself, during an argument of their own and in the heat of the moment he let the words slip. But he came to regret them as soon as they left his mouth when he saw the hurt look on his sister's face. Mira had been determined to prove Boromir wrong, and she worked twice as hard as any of the men to prove to them she belonged there.

It hadn't been easy, the first year, getting used to the terrain, and constant travel in poor conditions with limited food and water was hard enough, yet getting the approval of the men and her brothers had proven to be just as big of a challenge. The men didn't want a woman in their midst, most had the same mindset as their Captain, thinking of her as a burden. Faramir, who had come around quicker than most, often came to his sister's defence, and no one dared to say anything about her in front of him. For the men, it wasn't until they saw her in action, tending to their wounds and saving many of their lives in the process, that the rest saw what Faramir already knew.

She was resourceful, they had noticed; if she ran out of supplies while they were travelling, she was able to use things she found in the forest to work as makeshift splints or wrappings if needed. Mirawen would also pass on her knowledge to the soldiers who held some skill in healing, teaching them how to make salves and other medicines from the plants they found in the forest. Boromir had come around eventually to, especially once he saw that the number of their losses had lessened since she had joined their ranks, and that number became even more significant after the other healers began to join them.

"This plan almost failed you know, if not for her… more of us would be dead." Faramir continued, explaining to Boromir how she had gone scouting the previous night.

Boromir snapped his head to his younger brother, a look of anger crossed his face. "You let her go scouting on her own!?" He exclaimed through gritted teeth, "She could have been seen! She could have been _killed_! I expected you to keep watch on her, to make sure she stays in your sight!"

"You and I both know she is too much like you brother." Faramir said staring his older brother down, arms crossed.

Once Boromir calmed down, Faramir added, "You are both stubborn as a mule."

They both turned to watch their sister once more, and laughed together. Boromir silently agreeing with his younger brother, his sister was as stubborn as he was for certain.

"She's going to send me to an early grave with all this worrying." Boromir stated, his eyes fixated on the redhead who stuck out like a sore thumb in a field of men.

"You need to stop worrying so much about her Boromir. She's proved she does just fine taking care of herself out here all these years." Faramir said, concerned eyes watching his older brother.

Boromir turned to face him then, clasping his gloved hand onto Faramir's shoulder. "I know all of this brother, but I will never stop worrying about her." With that he turned and walked away, leaving Faramir to stand watch alone.

Hours later, the wounded had been moved into the headquarters at Henneth Anun, where they had set up an infirmary, it wasn't as impressive as the Healing Houses of Minas Tirith, but it had what they needed. Mirawen scrubbed the dirt and blood off her hands in a small basin of water, her body aching. Once her hands were clean, she went to check on their stores, as she wanted to have an updated list to bring with her; at dawn she would be returning to Minas Tirith with a small group, along with six wounded men to deliver to the Houses of Healing.

Picking up items of the shelf and doing some quick math in her head, she wrote down the amounts she would need to bring back with her. Lost in her thoughts she was startled when she heard a voice from behind her.

"Do you ever rest sister?" She turned around to see Boromir leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

She smiled at him warmly before returning to her notes, and shrugged, gesturing at the shelves around the room, "We need more supplies."

There was an awkward silence, and Boromir took a step forward, entering the small room he said, "Faramir tells me we have you to thank…"

Mirawen did not look away from the storage shelves and Boromir continued, "Mira… I know we've had our differences these past few years… I want you to know I'm proud of you. You belong out here… with us, I'm sorry it took me so long, and I needed to know you knew that."

"We should not dwell on the past Boromir." She said to him calmly, "...we must keep moving forward, it is the only way we'll win this war. We keep winning all these battles… but the war is far from over… I sense this is only the beginnings of an even bigger threat… of what is yet to come."

Her eyes downcast, she picked up an empty jar that was once full of bandages, she sighed and showed Boromir her list, "... our supplies are dwindling faster these days."

His eyes scanned her notes, and he looked up at the shelves, they were out of most things. Running his hand through his hair to get it out of his face he sighed, "The battles we fight seem to be getting closer and closer together these days… the men don't have enough time to recuperate." Boromir said, and he pulled his sister into a hug, his head resting on top of hers. "... I sense it to sister. Something bigger is coming... I feel it in my heart and it shakes me to my core. We will face it together, you, me, and Faramir. Just like we always have done."

"I'll bring back more this time…" A thought came to her then, "...perhaps I can work out some sort of delivery system with the Warden, this would save us time, and the bodies we would have to send. We can store it at Osgiliath, before bringing it here."

Pulling away from the embrace his put his hands on his sister's shoulders and leveled his head with hers. Smiling he said, "We will see it done sister."

An hour before dawn the next day, Mirawen could be found brushing out Argo's mane in the stable. She woke early, as she was anxious to return to Minas Tirith. Turning her head slightly, she saw the shadowy form of her oldest brother out of the corner of her eye.

"What are you doing up so early?" She asked him without turning around.

"I could ask you the same." He said approaching her. "It would seem you are anxious to get back."

She turned her head to face him, looking up to see him staring down at her, his eyebrow raised. Smirking he said, "...perhaps, you are anxious to see a certain _someone_."

Her face went hot, it was true, and her mind flashed to the handsome man she had waiting for her back home. "I just want to leave on time is all." She answered him cooly, avoiding his eye contact.

"Tis nothing to hide from me sister, I quite like the boy." He said, earning him a shy smile from his younger sister, he could see her cheeks were pink from the torchlights.

Mirawen was not one to discuss her romantic relationship with Edwin, especially not with her brothers. "Then yes… I am excited to see him. I miss him."

Stepping forward, Boromir picked up the saddle to help his sister finish tacking her horse.

"I am certain he is more excited." He said as he placed the saddle on Argo's back, "It has been awhile since you've been home Mira… send one of the others back with the supplies. Stay a little longer… it is rare, a _gift_ , that you share with Edwin. In times like these… where we know not how much time we have… it is important… stay a little longer, and spend some time at home, with him."

Mirawen put down the brush as she considered her brother's words, and Argo let out a neigh.

"See, even your horse agrees with me." Boromir laughed patting Argo's neck. "I would be so lucky to have someone waiting for me."

Mirawen smirked up at her brother, and teasing him she said, "That's because you are married to your sword dear brother, and the battlefield is your mistress. I know many women in Minas Tirith who would be more than happy to warm your bed while waiting for the Captain of Gondor's armies."

Boromir simply shrugged, no longer taken aback by her forwardness, she had been around the men so long sometimes she began to talk like them, though she was able to act the role of noble woman when she needed to.

He handed her a sealed scroll. "What is this?" she asked.

"For the Warden. A formal request to begin a delivery schedule as soon as possible. I need you to bring this to father to sign before presenting it to him." Mirawen smiled at her brother and hugged him, murmuring a muffled " _thank you"_ into his chest. "I told you we would see it done." He said, kissing the top of his sister's head.

Outside the sky lightened, and Mirawen held out an apple for her horse. "Here boy." She said, her own stomach grumbling. "I will be back soon."

Together her and Boromir left for the mess hall in search of some breakfast. A short while later he escorted her back to the stable where a few of her travel companions were busy saddling their own horses. Once everyone was ready, she mounted her own horse, and led them to the westmost exit that would take them to the bridge and lead them home.

Turning to look at her brother she said, "Won't you need me back here?"

"We have plenty of help on our front, we will be just fine without you for a few months." He said smiling at her.

She counted heads to make sure everyone who would be riding back with her was present. The wounded, all accounted for, were secure in their wagons, and wrapped in furs to keep warm.

"Safe travels." Boromir said.

Smiling at her brother she said in return, "Stay safe."

The sun rising higher in the sky, the small group took off, the hooves of the horses echoing through the mountains.

When they had crossed the river, they had a momentary rest at the old city of Osgiliath. Other than a small military garrison, the former capital of Gondor was completely abandoned. It lay in ruins after being burned during a siege-war centuries past, what was left of it now was their last line of defence between the King's City and the enemy on the eastern side of the Anduin river. There was always a group of men ready to hold it, for if Osgiliath were to fall, the enemy would have easy access into the realm of Gondor, and a siege-war against the mountain city of Minas Tirith, would surely follow.

They did not linger for long, as soon as Mirawen and the other healer finished checking over the wounded, they declared they should leave with haste. Several hours after they left their headquarters east of the river, they crossing the fields of Pelennor, the White City in their sites.

Mirawen smiled as they got closer to the stone city, her heart beat with longing. It had been eight months since she had seen Edwin last, her heart aching more each day as she yearned to be with him. Edwin's injury never fully healed, much to his dismay. Ioreth had explained to them that there had been substantial damage to the nerves and muscles in his leg. He would never be a ranger again, and her heart broke for him.

They'd fought, the first time she chose to return to the field, Edwin had felt bitter and wanted her to stay back with him, but in her heart she knew she belonged in the field, it was where she thrived. When she had returned four months later he apologized and all was well, it had taken him some time and reflecting, but he had decided he would be happy assisting his father in the training yard. Berin was getting older and would not be able to do it forever, and Edwin's leg would only be a disability to him in the field. He was content that he was still able to be of use to Gondor, though it was not in the way he had originally dreamed of.

As they approached the city, the main gate opened allowing them entry into Minas Tirith. Heads peered out of their homes as they heard the cluster of hooves against the stone roads, and those on the street moved out of the way allowing them to pass. They did not slow down until they reached the healing houses. Mirawen could spot Ioreth and a few others waiting for them, as soon as she pulled Argo to a halt, she hopped off her horse and handed the reins to a nearby stable boy. Calling out directions to the men who travelled with her, she approached her former mentor and the Warden, briefing the healers on the wounded they had brung them.

Once the men were settled in the Healing Houses, the Warden dismissed her, knowing she would be travel-weary. Edwin would be busy in the training yard, so Mirawen decided she would find her father first. Making her way through the halls, she stopped at door she knew he would be behind and knocked. Entering his study, she presented him with the scroll as per Boromir's request, without speaking to her, he read the words in his son's writing and signed his name at the bottom. Mirawen thanked him, and made her way back to the Houses of Healing, where she found the Warden and handed him the scroll signed by Lord Denethor. She explained their dire situation when it came to their stores and handed him the list she had composed. Informing him that she would be staying in Minas Tirith, and that Thendir would be returning to Henneth Anun with the supplies in two days time.

As soon as the Warden dismissed her she all but ran to the training yard. A confused look crossed her face when she didn't see Edwin, and for a moment she felt worried. Berin approached her then, with a knowing look on his face. It had taken the man a while to warm up to the idea of his son courting the Steward's daughter, but ultimately he approved. Her own father had never said anything to her, she did not even know if he knew.

"Lady Mirawen." He greeted, bowing his head slightly, and with a smile and a wink, said "He is in the armoury."

She thanked him and took off, this time in a brisk walk. As she reached the archway that led into the armoury, she could hear the sound of a sanding stone being rubbed against wood. Stepping inside quietly, his back was turned to her, as he worked on smoothing out the training swords.

"You keep at it like that and they will become not but twigs." She said, alerting him to her presence.

Edwin's shoulders tensed, and he slowly turned around at the sound of her voice. He had to do a double take, as if he was seeing a ghost, before his mind caught up with him and he stood up, dropping the wooden sword to the floor with a _clunk._ Without grabbing his walking stick, he limped towards her, and Mirawen stepped forward herself to close the distance between him. He held a look of disbelief, as he stroked her hair, and ran his hands along her shoulders to make sure she was actually there in front of him. Cupping his hands around her face, he pulled her into him and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. Mirawen wrapped her arms around his neck in response and sighed into the kiss, she was home.

 **A/N:** _Thank you so much for reading, and for the new reviews and follows! I'm so glad people have enjoyed the story thus far, we are only two chapters away from entering into the main storyline! Next chapter will be up sometime next week!_

 _Until next time,_

 _-Buttercup._


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N:** _Welcome back! As per usual, I do NOT own any of the characters that belong to Middle Earth and Tolkien's universe, I only own Mira & Edwin! Thank you to everyone who has been following this story, I'm so happy there are people who are enjoying it! On with the show…_

 **6 Months Later**

The days passed by far too quickly for the young lovers' liking, Mirawen and Edwin had been inseparable whenever they were not busy with their own respective duties. When Mira wasn't busy in the Houses of Healing, or helping the Warden work out the kinks in their new delivery system, she could be found in the training yard. She would work on her own skills so she would not be out of practice, while Edwin was busy training his own group of children, preparing them to become soldiers of their own one day. At day's end, she would help him put away all the equipment and tidy up for the next day. Often, they could be found in the armoury when the training yard was clear, sanding down splinters, sharpening steel, and stealing kisses in between.

"I cannot believe you go back in two days." Edwin sighed, his forehead pressed against hers.

Her back pressed up against the wall, she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him softly and slowly. These last six months had been pure bliss, some of the happiest days of her life, but it was time she went back. She loved the man in front of her, but she had a duty to her country, and she knew her comrades in the field needed her.

"Ioreth has given me leave of my duties tomorrow, I want to spend the whole day with you." She whispered in his ear breathlessly.

He trailed kisses along her neck until their lips met once more, sending shivers down her spine until she could feel it in her toes. The secrecy may have made their courtship more exciting, but they were madly in love all the same.

"What do you have in mind?" He asked her huskily, trailing a finger down her sides.

She could feel his hot breath against her neck, causing her skin to break out in gooseflesh. Mira kissed him hard on the mouth, pushing him back and stepping away from the wall before things got too carried away.

"Meet me at the stables tomorrow morning after breakfast." She said, biting her lip playfully as she backed out of the armoury, leaving Edwin standing there breathing heavily, his eyes fixated on her until she disappeared around the corner. He moved to lean against the doorframe, watching the sky change colors as day turned into night, and he thought to himself that morning couldn't come soon enough.

Edwin met her in the stables shortly after breakfast where she had their horses ready and waiting. The sun that shone down on them created a golden halo-like effect around her copper tresses, making her look almost ethereal. " _She is beautiful…"_ he thought, smiling to himself as he approached her, even in a simple red riding dress, she looked radiant, and he felt like the luckiest man in Middle Earth. Mirawen tightened her belt, and adjusted it on her waist so that her sword rested comfortably on her hip. Lifting her head, she noticed Edwin as their eyes met and she smiled at him. Running towards him, he caught her embrace, lifting her slightly of the ground, and he placed a soft kiss upon her lips; they held each other a moment before Edwin broke the silence.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" He asked her.

She shook her head, and taunting him she said, "You'll see when we get there."

They mounted their horses and he followed Mirawen down through the narrow mountain pass located at the rear of the city. He had never seen it before himself, only knew of its existence, and what its true purpose was. The horses kept at a steady pace as they were in no rush, longing to spend as much time together as possible before they parted once more. Every so often Mirawen would glance back at Edwin, and the way he looked at her so lovingly caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach. It had been several years since their courtship began, yet he could still make her blush just by smiling at her, the fireworks between them were as spectacular as the wizard Gandalf's own.

They reached their destination after a couple hours of riding and light conversation through the woods. Mirawen led him into the small clearing she had discovered years ago when her mother had passed. The bushes were covered in spring flowers, and the small stream appeared as blue as the sapphires on the necklace resting against Mira's chest.

"Hungry?" Mirawen asked him as she gracefully hopped off her horse. Grabbing a blanket she had packed, she disappeared underneath the leaves of an old willow tree, its long branches tickling the ground. She appeared once more, this time empty handed having laid the blanket out on the forest floor.

"Starving." He answered her; dismounting his own horse, he watched as Mirawen rummaged through the saddlebags, pulling out various wrapped food items. "You've been busy this morning…"

She smirked, "I thought it would be nice to get away from the city today."

"How did you manage to sneak away all this food?" He asked her with an eyebrow raised.

Shrugging she casually replied, "I may or may not have raided the kitchens when the staff went on break."

Edwin laughed and led the horses to the stream for a drink, while Mirawen set out their lunch. With a slight limp he made his way to Mira, where she sat amongst a spread of various breads, fruit and cheeses. Lowering himself onto the blanket beside her, he stretched out his legs and watched as the leaves of the willow tree moved with the breeze.

"I seem to recall we first met underneath a tree just like this one." He smiled at her, his brown eyes staring affectionately into her green ones.

"Yes." She said, giggling at the memory of their first encounter.

"It's beautiful here." He stated, though his eyes never left her.

"It is... I happened upon it a long time ago. I come here sometimes when I need peace... I thought it would be the perfect place to spend our last day together." She smiled sadly at him.

Indeed it was a peaceful place, as all that could be heard was the trickle of the stream, the birds singing in the trees, and a slight rustle in the leaves as they danced in tune with the wind. He lay down on his side, head propped in his hand facing her, "I wish you could stay." He sighed.

Mirawen mirrored him, and with her free hand reached out for his, their fingers lacing together, and she sighed, "I wish there was a way I could be in two places at once… my heart feels so torn."

Sitting up he pulled her to him, her head resting on his lap while he played with her hair, "I know..." He said calmly, as a tear escaped her sad eyes and he wiped it away with his thumb, "...let's not dwell on goodbye's just yet. We have the whole day together, we should not waste it feeling sad."

Sitting up she gave him a soft smile and placed a kiss on his lips, "I love you."

"I love you too Mira." Edwin placed a kiss on her forehead, and slowly pulled away, his eyes landing on the spread of food before them. Clapping his hands together he said, "Come, let us eat."

Laying side by side, they stared up at the bits of blue sky visible through the top of the tree line, their bellies full. Mirawen curled into Edwin's side, his arm wrapped around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. Laying her down on her back gently, he hovered over her, and leaned down to kiss her. She welcomed his kiss, and wrapping her arms around his neck she parted her lips, their soft kiss becoming more passionate. Arching her back she pushed her chest into his, and she felt a warmth growing in her belly as his hands stroked her sides down to her hips.

Her body tingled all over and as she ran her hands along his chest, she had never felt like this before, it was as if she was having an out of body experience. Her mind was shut off, no thinking was involved as she felt her body melt into his, she startled slightly when his hands brushed against her breasts and suddenly he pulled away panting. He sat back abruptly, running his hands through his hair as he caught his own breath.

"I am sorry Mira…" His face was flushed and he stared at his feet, feeling ashamed. "I do not mean to dishonor you."

She sat next to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "You could never dishonor me… but, I understand." They held each other in silence for several moments, cooling themselves down from their heated moment, and Edwin drew circles with his finger along Mira's back.

Above them the clouds in the sky turned grey, and they decided it was time to head back to Minas Tirith before it became too dark to find the way home. Edwin helped Mira pack up the saddle bags, and they fed the horses some of their left over fruit, which the two animals ate up greedily. He followed Mira back underneath the willow tree and helped her roll up the blanket, before heading back to the horses, he took a deep breath and held her hands in his.

"I would marry you Mirawen." He said with confidence. "I want you to be my wife, I want to have a family with you, to grow grey with old age, and watch our children have families of their own. I want to be yours forever, and have you be mine. I am more sure of this than I have been of anything my entire life..." He took a breath, and her eyes began to water, as he continued, "When we return… I will march up to your father, and demand he let me have your hand. Will you? Marry me?"

Nodding, she kissed him in response, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "Yes!" She exclaimed, "I want all of that too… though, I would not _demand_ my father if I were you…" She kissed him again and lay her head against his chest where she could feel his heartbeat in rhythm with hers.

"I love you with all of my heart Mira." He sighed, kissing the top of her head. "You are right, I will have to rethink my strategy of winning over your father." He chuckled.

"I love you too Edwin, so much it hurts."

It was a perfect end to a perfect day, now all they had to do was convince Lord Denethor to allow his daughter to marry for love instead of duty. It had been years and her father had not put much effort into finding a husband for her, perhaps he would let her marry Edwin afterall. Edwin placed a tender kiss on Mira's soft lips, one hand resting on the back of her head.

Eyes closed, she could see it play out in her mind, their wedding day. White flowers adorned her hair that cascaded down her back in loose curls, and she wore a beautiful white dress made of the finest silks and laces. Her brothers, smiling proudly at her gave her away to her groom who looked more handsome than ever in his formal attire, the White Tree of Gondor displayed proudly across his sapphire blue vest. Ioreth near the front of the crowd, was wiping away the happy tears that rolled down her cheeks, as she beamed with pride. Even her father couldn't hide his smile as he stood at the front of the crowd of people gathered to watch her wedding day. Birds were singing, until suddenly they weren't.

Her daydream vanished, bringing her back to the clearing, where she jumped as a flock of birds suddenly soared past them, flying away with haste. Edwin quickly pulled away from her when they noticed the horses getting anxious behind them, they could hear branches cracking, and a foul stench violated their nostrils. Simultaneously, they both wrapped their hands around the hilts of their swords, getting ready for whatever came.

"Get behind me Mira." Edwin whispered, and she stepped behind him.

His eyes scanned their surroundings, they were too far from the horses to make a quick getaway, they would have to fight their way out. With one hand on his sword, he held his other arm out protectively in front of Mirawen. The stench grew stronger and the horses got more restless. Suddenly the source of the foul smell revealed itself, in the form of no less than seven hideous orcs, their sharp yellow teeth visible to them as they snarled upon seeing the two humans behind the thin branches of the willow tree.

Mira's breaths were heavy, and her chest heaved, she could feel her heart beating fast as the feeling of fear grew inside her, her palms began to feel clammy. There were only two of them, against seven armed orcs, they were severely outnumbered. This wasn't the first time she had been face to face with a group orcs, she had faced much larger forces, but never without an army at her back. She felt vulnerable in just her plain dress with no protective armour, her mind racing as she tried to plan just how the two of them would get out of this situation.

"Once the path is open, get to Argo, and ride as fast as you can, and do not look back." Edwin said to her, drawing his sword as the orcs charged forward.

"No. I will not leave you here." She said firmly, drawing her own sword, steel clashed as she blocked an attack from above. Kicking the orc on its thigh, she pushed the sword through its neck and it fell to the ground with a loud thud. She wished then she had brought her throwing knives, but knew she could not dwell on it, and her sword met another, the sound of steel ringing in her ears.

"You can not take them on alone." She said defiantly, blocking another swing, and the other orcs growled loudly at their fallen companion.

Swords clashed as the two of them fought the orcs, their backs facing one another as the enemy circled around them, backing them into the trunk of the willow tree. There were four of them left, three orcs lay slain, and the remaining four howled in anger, swinging their swords harder against the two Gondorians.

"Mira! Get out of here!" He shouted at her, when he saw a path open up for her to go.

"No!" She grunted, as her sword was met with a curved blade. "I cannot… _errrg_ … leave you!"

Mira held her sword steady against her assailant's, her arms shaking from the weight as the enemy pressed down against her. She felt a sudden sting on her face as the edge of the curved sword pressed against her face. Grunting, she mustered up the strength to push the enemy away from her, causing the sword to slice open her cheek as it was removed, screaming in pain she drove her sword in between the orc's eyes.

Only two orcs were left standing, adrenaline pumping through her veins, she helped Edwin take them out. Without hesitation, they quickly made for their horses who anxiously waited for them by the stream. The bodies of the orcs behind them, her adrenaline wore off and she began to feel dizzy, her face throbbing in pain. She pressed a hand to her face, pulling her hand back only to see her fingers covered in red, and she was unable to see from her left eye as the blood poured down her face. Edwin helped Mira onto her horse Argo who had gotten down on his knees after sensing his master's weariness, turning his head to her, he let out a nervous whinny and pressed his forehead into hers.

"I'll be okay boy… just get us home." She whispered into his ear.

Upon noticing her blood soaked face, Edwin ripped a piece of fabric from the hem of his shirt and wrapped it around her wound, tying it tightly behind her head to slow the bleeding. The hair on her left side, appeared to be a much darker red from the blood, and the wrapping Edwin had placed, only stopped so much.

Mira positioned herself comfortably on Argo's saddle and slowly, he stood up ready to leave as soon as possible. Wrapping the reins around her wrists incase her grip weakened as they rode, she didn't notice the way Edwin held his stomach, or the dark red that seeped through his own shirt, nor did she notice how he struggled to get on top of his own horse. What she did notice, however, were the snarls coming from behind them as several more orcs poured into the clearing, they must have heard their skirmish from moments ago. The orcs howled loudly upon seeing the seven orcs that lay slain in the grass, and charged towards them.

"Edwin!" She shouted, ducking her head just in time as an arrow flew past her.

Feeling disoriented with vision in only one eye, and from the bloodloss, she barely processed the words Edwin shouted at her.

"Mira... Ride hard... Don't look back... I'm right behind you! Hyah!" They urged their horses into a gallop, arrows flew past them as the orcs chased them on foot. It wasn't long before they were far enough away, leaving the clearing and the orcs a great distance behind them, though they did not dare to slow their horses. What had started out as such a perfect day, had quickly turned sour.

The pain in her face intensified and they slowed their horses once the gate was in their sight, she could hear shouting from the guards up above though she could not make out what they were saying. She glanced behind her to see Edwin slumped over his horse, two arrows protruding from his back. Her heart leapt to her throat, and she tried to cry out his name, though the words never came.

The horses came to a halt once they were in the familiar cobble streets of the city, and the gate closed behind them. Mirawen barely registered what was happening around them as the soldier's surrounded their horses, the shock that had kept her alert was wearing off and she could feel herself sliding off of Argo's back. A soldier caught her, and the last thing she remembered was seeing her father's pale, frightened face running towards her before her world went black.

Her face felt as if it were on fire as she came too, and the memories of the events in the clearing flooded her mind.

"Edwin!" She cried out, frantically looking around the room, "Edwin!"

"Shhh…" Came a familiar soothing voice, and a figure appeared at her bedside, grasping her hand.

"Ioreth?" She sobbed, "Where is Edwin? He… is he…?"

Ioreth held onto Mirawen's hand, and struggled to find the words, she didn't have the heart to tell the girl, but she knew Mirawen needed to hear the truth.

With a deep breath she looked down at the girl, whose face was half covered in bandages to prevent her stitches from becoming infected, and she said, "He is still alive, but only just… his injuries are far worse than we thought… we do not know… we cannot know… if he… if he will make it through the night."

Mirawen took a deep breath of her own, and her grip on Ioreth's hand tightened, her knuckles turning white. "How long have I been out?" She asked quietly as she tried to steady her breaths.

"A few hours." Ioreth answered, stroking the girls hair comfortingly. "Mirawen, what happened?"

Mira explained to Ioreth how they had gone for an afternoon ride, their lunch in the clearing a few hours outside of the city, and how they were ambushed by a group of orcs.

"There were too many of them for us. Never have I seen orcs this close to the city… How they got past our armies… I do not know…" she finished.

"A group was sent out after them soon as you arrived, I am sure they tracked them down." Ioreth reassured her.

"Can I go see him?" Mira asked anxiously, changing the subject.

Ioreth sighed, "I have to change your wrappings first, then I will help you over there."

Ioreth made quick work of cleaning, and redressing her wound, a patch was over her eye that was swollen shut. She dabbed ointment over Mira's stitches before wrapping her wound with fresh gauze.

"Is my eye… will I ever see out of it again?" Mirawen asked, sounding afraid.

"You will my dear, you are very lucky, whatever did this to your face, _just_ missed your eye." Ioreth explained, tracing her finger along her own face to show Mirawen where her wound lay. "It will leave a scar."

Mirawen nodded, holding back tears, a scar she could live with, but a life without Edwin? That is something she could not imagine. Ioreth helped her out of bed, her legs shaky at first due to the loss of blood and exhaustion. It took a few minutes, but with Ioreth supporting her, she was able to walk to Edwin's room.

Seeing him laying there was much different from the last time they had met this way. He looked so much paler than he had back then, his breaths, shallower. Mirawen sat in the chair Ioreth had moved next to his bedside and stroked his hair, and she watched his chest rise and fall, as silent tears streamed down her face, leaving droplets on the blankets.

"I am so sorry Edwin…" she whispered through her tears, and she reached for his hand, "... this is all my fault, I should not have taken you there… none of this would have happened… I love you… please… please stay with me, please don't go where I cannot follow you… please…"

His grip tightened on her hand and she looked up to meet his eyes, smiling she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. He tried to sit up but winced in pain, which is when Mira noticed the blood soaked wrappings around his abdomen. She tensed up, and suddenly felt very afraid.

"Mira…" he whispered, sounding weak he moved his hand to her face, "are you… okay?"

She held his cold hand against her warm cheek and nodded. "You're asking if I am okay?" She chuckled sadly, "It will leave a hideous scar, but I will be fine."

He smiled at her, and spoke slowly, struggling, with each breath he took, "You will… still be… the most beautiful… woman in Middle… Earth. I love you… so much."

She kissed him softly once more, her lips lingering on his a little longer this time and she stroked his hair until he fell back asleep. Several healers arrived and announced they needed to change his wrappings. One of the apprentices escorted her back to her room and helped her into the bed, her tired body sinking into the mattress as sleep overcame her.

Sleep did not come easy that night, her body lay still, but her mind would not rest, the events in the clearing haunting her dreams. Her dream started out happy and carefree, only to be stolen away from her by darkness. When she finally woke up, she noticed it was just before dawn from the small amount of light in the dark sky. She touched a hand to her bandaged face, wincing, as the wounds were still fresh. " _So it really did happen…"_ she sighed, and adjusted her pillows, sitting up so she could watch the sunrise through her window.

Her head was pounding, and her face stung, tender to the touch, but the worst pain she felt was that in her heart. Not knowing if Edwin had made it through the night was killing her. Once the sun was visible in the skies above Gondor, Mirawen heard footsteps enter her room.

The next moments felt like they moved in slow motion, as soon as her eyes met Ioreth's, she knew, and the pain in her heart exploded tenfold. Ioreth hurried to her side and held her, rocking Mira as she screamed, holding back tears of her own as she watched the young girl fall apart in front of her.

"Shhh… shhhh… shhhh…." Ioreth whispered into her hair as she stroked it soothingly.

"When?" Was all Mirawen could muster through her cries, her body shuddering.

"Last night. We did _everything_ we could… but he succumbed to his injuries in the end. I am so sorry my child, I know he meant a great deal to you." Ioreth said, holding her comfortingly as a mother would.

"I… I do not know how to live in this world without him Ioreth… how… how can I go on?" She choked out. " _This is all my fault… all my fault…"_ Mira told herself.

"I lost my husband… when I was not much older than you. We find our strength again, we move on. It will take time, but, your heart will heal, and one day, your heart will open up again." Ioreth said, and she picked up the late Finduilas' necklace off the small table and placed it in Mira's hands, covering them she continued, "Just remember that those we love, who love _us_ , they never truly leave us Mira, they stay in our heart's forever, they live, through _us."_

Mirawen managed a weak smile and wiped away her tears, hiccoughing, she let Ioreth continue to comfort her, rocking her in her arms until she eventually fell back asleep.

" _Be strong… Mirawen… be strong."_ She heard her mother's voice whisper, only this time, another voice joined hers.

 **A/N:** _Ahh! Please don't hate me, this was so hard to write because I really didn't want to kill Edwin, but for the sake of the story (this is afterall going to be an_ _ **eventual**_ _Eomer pairing) and Mira's own personal growth… it had to be done. What will losing Edwin do to Mira? What was Denethor's reaction to seeing Mirawen return to Minas Tirith injured?_

 _Until next time,_

 _-Buttercup_

 _P.s: did anyone catch the HP reference in this chapter? I tried to work in one of my favorite quotes from the series._


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N:** _As per usual, I only own my OC's, currently just Mirawen (may Edwin RIP) anything you recognize does not belong to me, it belongs to Tolkien. (speaking of, who else saw the trailer to the film 'Tolkien'? I am so excited for it to come out!)_

 _Thank you to those who have reviewed, favorited, or followed my story, it makes me happy and motivates me to continue, and to everyone I hope you enjoy reading._

 **28 Year Old Mirawen**

Five years. It had been _five years._ Five years without him, five years since she'd lost herself again, and everyday when Lady Mirawen looked at her reflection, she was reminded of her biggest mistake; the worst day of her life. The ugly pink scar stretched along the left side of her face, starting above her eyebrow and curving down her cheek in the shape of a C, ending just before it reached her jawline. When she closed her eyes, she could still see his face, and she missed him terribly, what the two of them had shared, she knew she would never be able to replace.

Her father, Lord Denethor, had been terribly angry when he learned of what happened, but not for reasons one would expect. She could remember his cruel words clear as day, and she had decided that she would no longer bother herself with seeking his approval, but it was much easier said than done.

 _ **Five Years Earlier**_

" _...father?" Mirawen asked, noticing him enter the room. She lifted her head from the tear-stained pillow to meet his eyes, which burned with rage._

" _What. Happened." He said through gritted teeth._

 _Mirawen told him everything, from beginning to end, her voice growing coarser as her throat was dry from her crying. Her father did not move to get her a glass of water, he just stared down at her, angry, yet indifferent at the same time._

" _I see." He said, his hands behind his back, he turned away from her._

 _Mirawen got up to pour herself a glass of water, her head pounding._

" _We know not how the orcs slipped passed our armies… Father, they were armed differently than I have seen… I did not recognize their armour… perhaps they do not come from the East." Mira pondered out loud._

 _Her father scoffed, "The scouts I sent out told me of this and I have sent word to our Western provinces. Five men were lost because of this…" He turned to her glaring, "...because you were off gallivanting with some common boy!"_

 _He spat the word common out like it was poison to his tongue._

" _Edwin was not just a common boy…" She choked out, the loss still fresh._

" _He was a cripple! You are a noblewoman of Gondor! He was beneath you! And now…" He gestured at her before cruelly whispering, "You are ruined."_

" _If you are questioning my honor father…" She said, her fists clenched and she was shaking with rage, "Edwin and I… we never…" though thinking back on it, now she wished they had. "We loved each other. Father, he wanted to marry me, and I him! Before he was taken away from me."_

" _It matters not. I never would have allowed it." He glared, "And now… you have ruined any chance Gondor has of signing an alliance pact, I cannot present_ _ **you**_ _as a bride. Not with that hideous thing on your face." He turned to leave the room, but before he exited he faced her once more, "You got your wish, daughter. You can fight for your country like you always wanted… but you will_ _ **never**_ _bring it honor. You will die a spinster like that old woman you idolize so much."_

 _Holding back tears she watched her father's black cloak drag along the floor behind him until it disappeared and her heart turned cold as ice._

No longer felt did Lady Mirawen feel at home in the Citadel, and she avoided seeing her father at all costs. It took a month for her face to heal, leaving behind the permanent scar as a cruel reminder. Her wounded heart, she had yet to recover from, the words her father spoke to her creating a frozen barrier around it.

She would not love again, she had promised herself, for she did not want to feel such pain again. Though her heart was cold, she still held care for her two brothers, the only two men she would ever need to love, she had decided. There was warmth yet in her heart, and it was waiting for someone to melt down its icy prison cell.

Mirawen had decided that her new fate, was to fight against the evils that had a hand in making her feel this way, and she would die fighting for it. Where Mira had once been thoughtful and strategic, always erring on the side of caution, she now had the tendency to take action without thinking.

Her reckless side had come out full force in the wake of Edwin's death. It had almost gotten her killed several times, her brother's had noticed the change in her ways, and it worried them. They knew she was grieving for at night they could hear the muffled cries that came from her tent, as she did not want to show weakness in front the men.

It took two years before she slowly started to become more herself again, but there was always a piece of her that was missing. She would laugh and smile with the others, though it never reached her eyes. Her eyes, no longer sparkled like emeralds as they had once before, now adopting a duller shade, the color of moss.

Lady Mirawen tried to spend as much time as possible away from Minas Tirith. It was there where she felt most free, surrounded by the lush greenery and with her brothers in arms, fighting for what they believed in. She no longer felt that same comfort in the walls of the city, and it saddened her everytime she had to leave the comforts of the wilderness behind.

Breathing in the crisp evening air, Mirawen took in her surroundings. She would be leaving for Minas Tirith with her brothers the following day, as their father had called them to return, and she did not know how long he planned to have them stay. Mira knew her father did not require her presence, nor Faramir's as the two of them were often left out of matters he deemed too important for them to understand. Nonetheless, Boromir would fight to include them, though more often than not, they were still left out.

Taking one last look at the trees, Mira glanced up at the dark sky above her, the black clouds keeping the stars hidden from those below. Letting out a yawn, she entered her tent, and made her way over to her bedroll. Mira slept with her boots on, as one had to be ready to leave in a moments notice in these times. She tucked her dagger, the one Edwin had given her many years ago, underneath her pillow, as she did each night.

Before closing her eyes, she whispered quietly to herself. "Five years too long, my love. I will join you, once this world has been shed of all its evils, and I will see you again… I promise _."_

The sky to the east grew darker, and darker, til it was not but the color of black ochre, yet from the west shone a light, a beacon of hope. The light grew and grew until the blackness was pushed away. She followed the light, until it led her to a river, and it all seemed so familiar, yet she did not recognize it.

A soft voice could be heard over the wind, sounding almost angelic, as the words reached her. " _...Isildur's bane shall waken…"_ it sang. She pulled down her hood to reveal shiny red waves that stood out amongst the lush greens of the forest.

She watched as a white canoe, far too elegant to be man-made, floated down along the river, towards her. Curious, she waded into the water and made her way towards it. As she came closer to the canoe, she could see a figure lay in its center, and the figure lay still. She reached for his hand, and it was cold as ice, she looked up towards the face…

Mirawen shot up in her bedroll, her hair clung to her sweaty face, and she exited her tent to get some air. She had been having the same recurring dream on and off for the past several months. Each time the dream became more vivid, and the voice in the sky sounded more clear to where she was able to make out some of the words.

Mira did not know what the dream was trying to tell her, but she knew it couldn't be a coincidence that she kept having the same dream. She wished she knew what the voice was trying to tell her, as she still could not make out all the words. The part that confused her the most, however, was the white canoe, and no matter how hard she tried, she always woke up before she could see the man's face.

Mirawen knew she would not be able to sleep after waking from her dream, she never could. Returning to her tent she began to pack up her things, preparing for the long day of travel that lay ahead.

As soon as the three siblings had arrived at Minas Tirith, Boromir was whisked away to a meeting with his father, leaving Mirawen and Faramir on their own.

Feeling all of a sudden uncomfortable now that she was surrounded by the white stone walls, she began to stare at her feet as she walked alongside her brother. Subconsciously, she moved her hair to hide her face, and the scar that covered it.

Faramir, who had been watching his sister with a heavy heart, put a firm hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. Stepping in front of her to face her, he brushed the hair away, tucking the loose red strands behind her ear. Faramir put a hand underneath his sister's chin and lifted her head up to meet his eyes.

"Do not hide it Mira." He said to her, "It would be a shame to hide such a beautiful face from the people of Minas Tirith."

She looked away from her brother, her eyes downcast. She did not feel beautiful, she hadn't in a long time.

"Mira." He said, making her look at him again. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed his forehead against hers. "You are a survivor. You are strong, and you fight for whats good. That is only part of what makes you beautiful, you need to remember it. If father cannot see that… then it is his loss."

Standing a little taller, she leaned into her brother's arms. He always did know the right things to say to make her feel better.

"I love you, Faramir." She whispered, wrapping her arms around him.

He kissed her forehead. "And I love you, Mira."

Faramir hated that his sister felt like she no longer belonged in the Citadel, outside the walls of Minas Tirith, she was free, and her fiery spirit shone through. Out in the field, she thrived, her head held high, and she breathed confidence. It had taken her a long time to gain that part of her back, and it saddened him to see her retreat to her old ways whenever they returned home. Most of all, Faramir hated how she held her head in shame in the presence of their father, if anyone should feel shame it was the Steward.

A figure approached them from behind, and Mirawen jumped out of Faramir's arms when she recognized the man.

"Uncle Imrahil!" She exclaimed, running towards him. "What brings you all this way?"

It was a rare occurrence, to see her Uncle in Minas Tirith. Her mother's brother, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth did not often come for a visit, and judging by the grim look he wore on his face, she knew it was not a family reunion that brought him here.

"Mirawen." He smiled down at his niece, kissing the top of her head. "You look more like your mother each day." He said, avoiding her question.

"Uncle." Faramir smiled, giving the older man a hug.

Mirawen gave her uncle a hard stare, and he sighed. "I had business to attend to with the Steward. Dark times lay ahead…"

"We're in dark times already Uncle." Mirawen interrupted him.

"You should not have to live to see such times, you are so young…" He said sadly.

"No one should have to." She answered him. "That's why we fight against the evils that leak out of its borders, so they do not leech their way into our lands. This is not news… what is it truly Uncle?"

He sighed, "Something has got Sauron pushing harder than ever before, we don't know what it is yet. It is dire we find out." The Prince of Dol Amroth explained to his niece and nephew. "My scouts have reported sighting a small fleet of Corsair ships from the south sailing up the river… it would seem they have aligned with Sauron."

Faramir and Mira nodded at him in understanding, both of them wondering just what that _something_ was.

"How long will you be here Uncle?" Mira asked him.

"I leave tomorrow." He said frowning slightly, "I regret I cannot stay longer… but I must return to Dol Amroth. There is much work to be done, we have to be prepared for whatever comes… no matter how clouded…" He coughed, not finishing his sentence, but Mira knew.

She had seen it, and despite intentionally avoiding him as much as she could, she had seen her father grow more distant over the years. He began to no longer see reason, as if something were clouding his vision.

He left the defence of the city in the hands of Boromir, his one wise decision. He could not see that the darkness that seeped into their lands from East was growing more with each passing day. That was almost just as dangerous as the threat of Mordor itself.

Tossing. Turning. Sweating. She shot up as the dream came to her once more, and this time she could hear some of the words more clearly.

' _Seek for the sword that was broken… Doom is near at hand… Isildur's Bane shall waken…'_

What did it mean? There were still pieces missing, that much she knew, if only she could fall back asleep and hear the whole speech.

Still, she could not see the man's face, and she wondered if it was meant to be Edwin's way of haunting her. It made no sense, as they were nowhere near a river when they were attacked, just a small stream. And why the boat? It appeared to be Elvish made… and they did not have anything like it in Gondor. No, this had nothing to do with him.

Hours later, unable to find sleep, Mira found herself wandering through the dark halls, her mind still lingering on her dream. If only she could hear those muffled words then perhaps she could decipher its meaning. She had been in Minas Tirith for little over a week now, and the dream came to her, each night more vivid than the last.

Days after their uncle had left, Boromir and Faramir had returned to their post in Ithilien. Mira had wanted to go with them, but they urged her to stay in the city, this worried her. They had never made her stay behind in the years she'd been out there with them, this led her to believe their father was sending them on a dangerous mission.

The reckless side of her was ready to follow after them, what if they got hurt and she wasn't there to save them? She longed to go despite their protests, but there was a part of her that told her she was meant to stay behind. She did not know why, but she chose to listen to the voice in her head, and remained in Minas Tirith.

She was brought out of her thoughts when she saw a familiar grey cloak turn around the corner. "Gandalf?" She whispered. ' _What is he doing here? And at this hour?'_ She thought.

It had been years since anyone in Minas Tirith had seen him, though it was not uncommon for him to arrive unannounced. What was most strange, was the hurried pace in which he walked, and the look of concern he wore on his face.

Mirawen swore she could see fear in his eyes, but when his eyes landed on her, it was gone.

"Ah, young Lady Mirawen." He said, looking at her curiously.

"Gandalf. It is good to see you." She smiled at him. "What brings you to Minas Tirith so late?"

"I come seeking answers." He stated, his eyes darting around the hall. "Your father does not know I am here. I do not think he would be too pleased to hear of my late arrival." He said lowering his voice.

"Your secret is safe with me Mithrandir, I will not tell him." Mirawen said, smirking.

"What has you wandering the halls at this late hour?" He asked, though Mira half-suspected he already knew, wise as he was.

"A dream." She stated, "I have been having the same dream for months now… and since I've returned home… it has been every night. I know not what to make of it."

"Dreams are a curious thing." Gandalf answered her. "Sometimes they can mean nothing, while other times they can mean everything. What does your heart tell you Lady Mirawen?"

"It's trying to tell me something, only, I cannot hear what it says."

"When the time is right, you will be ready to listen. Now… I must be off, I do not plan to be here when the sun rises. Lovely to see you again Mirawen." He said leaving her somewhat confused.

Mira watched him walk down the hall, and once he turned the corner she began to follow him. She watched him enter the Citadel library, and slowly entered after him. Hiding in the shadows she watched him search for whatever it was he was looking for. The flames from his torchlight nearly exposed her presence, though she would not be surprised if Gandalf already knew she was there.

Hidden in the shadows, she kept her eyes fixated on the scroll he had been reading as he went to put it away. He left with just as much haste as he had arrived in, and as soon as he was gone, Mira grabbed a torch off the wall, heading for the same shelf where Gandalf has just been.

"1...2...3…" She counted, until she reached the exact one she was looking for. Making her way to the small table, she quickly checked behind her to ensure no one was watching her. Unraveling the scroll she began to read...

' _The Great Ring shall go on to be an heirloom of the North Kingdom… records of it shall be left in Gondor…_ Ya-da ya-da ya-da… _it was hot when I first took it… yet even as I write, it is cooled… the writing upon it… first as red as flame, now faded and barely able to be read… the language is unknown to me. I deem it to be a tongue of the Black Land… what evil it saith I do not know...'_ She began to whisper aloud, her eyes scanning along the scroll. There was a phrase written beneath Isildur's scrawl, it appeared to be Elven-script. Mira did not recognize it, she had never come across anything quite like it in all her studies.

Mirawen continued to read, ' _... of all the works of Sauron the only fair. It is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain.'_

Slowly, with great care, she returned the scroll to its place on the shelf and exited the library. She needed to find Gandalf, but she feared he had already gone. When she reached the edge of the courtyard, she could see him riding away in the distance and the sky began to lighten.

" _Why had Gandalf read_ _ **that**_ _particular scroll… what answers was he looking for that involved Sauron's lost ring?"_ She pondered as she watched him ride away, " _Unless…"_ It couldn't be.

Had Gandalf found the Ring of legend, and come here to confirm his suspicions? That would explain his haste, and why he rode with purpose.

Something motivates Sauron more than ever before; did Sauron know his lost Ring of Power had been found? She gulped, if this were true, then Gondor, and all of Middle Earth for that matter, were in more danger than they realized.

She remembered her Uncle's words from a week prior ' _... we have to be prepared for whatever comes…'_ and so she would. Mira listened to her heart, hoping it was guiding her the right way. No matter what happened, she would be ready for it.

 **A/N:** _We made it, we are finally in the timeline! I'm so excited to be at this point, and I hope you will all enjoy Mira's part in the journey!_

 _Gandalf is on his way back to the Shire to inform Frodo to get the hell outta dodge, and Mira is left trying to decipher what her recurring dream is trying to tell her._

 _Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter._

 _Until next time_

 _-Buttercup_


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N:** _I do not own anything related to LOTR including all characters created by Tolkien, or any excerpts from the book or movie. Hope you enjoy this chapter._

 *******

A breeze made its way through the open window, causing the fire in the hearth to go out. Mirawen shivered in her bed, causing her to subconsciously pull the furs closer around her She tossed and turned and sweat dripped down her brow, yet still she did not wake.

It had been three weeks since Gandalf's strange visit, and the same dream came to her each night and plagued her mind each day. Many sleepless nights she'd had, since she last saw the wizard, the dark circles underneath her eyes giving it away.

Suddenly, she shot up in her bed, panting, and she pulled the furs to her chest, it was still dark. Once her heartbeat slowed to a steady pace, she noticed the window had blown open in the night, causing her fire to go out. Grabbing her robe, she stood up, briskly walking towards her window and closing the wooden shutters. She gazed into the distance, staring out at the vast black outline of the trees across the fields of Pelennor, where she knew her brothers were.

Scrutinizing the tree line, she could not shake the feeling that something was wrong, and she feared for her brothers safety. She chastised herself for not going with them, but her logical side argued that she had stayed in Minas Tirith for a reason. A chill overcame her, and she wrapped her robe clad arms around herself to stay warm. Turning from the window, she held out her hand in front of her and carefully walked towards the hearth in the dark room. There, she made quick work to get a fire going again.

Mira held her hands out above the flames until they were warm once more, then lit a candle, and walked towards her desk. She placed the candle into its glass holder and sat in her chair. Mira did not know what time it was, but knew she would find no more sleep tonight.

Rustling through her drawers with shaky hands, she searched through them until she found what she needed. Straightening out the scroll before her, she dipped the quill into the ink bottle and began to write:

" _Seek for the Sword that was broken;_

 _In Imladris it dwells._

 _There shall be taken counsels_

 _Stronger than Morgul-spells._

 _There shall be shown a token  
That Doom is near at hand._

 _For Isildur's Bane shall waken,_

 _And the Halfling forth shall stand."_

Hurridley, she wrote down the words that had come to her in her dream, before they escaped from her memory. She re-read the words she had written down in messy scrawl, and frowned, grabbing another piece of parchment she wrote them down again, neater this time. It is as Gandalf had said, when the time was right, she would be ready to listen. Holding it to the light, she read it aloud in a frantic whisper, and she knew. The ring had been found.

At first light, she dressed quickly, the anxious feeling she'd felt since she woke was now at full force. The ring that was lost… the dark lord Sauron's ring, had been found. She knew Gandalf knew of its whereabouts, it would explain why he had left so quickly. Mirawen rolled up the piece of parchment, and went to find her father. As much as she dreaded being in the same room as him, this was not information she could withhold from the Steward.

Hasty footsteps echoed down the hallway as her boots hit the floor with each stride, her heart beating faster as the nervous feeling grew in her stomach. Her dream had not been a coincidence, that much she knew. There were still pieces of her dream missing, the faceless man still haunting her, but at least she now knew what the soft voice had been trying to tell her.

Mira felt the cool breeze against her face as she walked across the courtyard, they were well into summer now, but the days still felt cold. Outside, she caught a glimpse of the blood red sun peeking out from behind the charcoal grey clouds. She paused, staring up at the fiery sky, and the nagging feeling that something terrible had happened creeped up and up. She feared the worst had happened, and she was terrified for her brothers.

Making her way towards the war room, where one of the guards had said they'd seen her father heading towards not that long ago, she stopped at its entrance. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she held her hand up to knock on the door, pausing only when she heard rushed voices from behind its closed doors.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, waiting for anxiety she felt at facing her father to simmer down, there were far more important things at hand. Her knuckles met the wooden door and rapped three times.

"Come in." She heard her father's gruff voice say.

Straightening out her skirts, she stood straight up, shoulders back and entered the room. She was shocked to see her brother's, who both looked worse for wear, sitting at the table across from their father, who's brow was furrowed in frustration.

"Boromir… Faramir?" She rushed to their side, ignoring Lord Denethor's glare. Quickly inspecting them for any serious injuries she asked, "What happened?"

They ensured her that they were both fine, and she did not need to fuss over them. The feeling went away, she now knew something had indeed happened, but her brothers were just fine and that eased her fears.

"We were attacked at Osgiliath… in the night." Faramir sighed. "The bridge has fallen."

"Osgiliath is held for now." Boromir added, "But that is not what brings us here."

Mirawen watched as her brothers exchanged a look between each other.

"Before the assault… we had a dream father. The same dream…" Faramir began, and as he continued to explain, reciting the same words Mira had written down on the scroll in her hand, her eyes widened.

Could it be possible? All three of them had shared the same dream? There was a reason for it, there must have been, it could not have been a coincidence for the siblings to share the same vision on the same night. Mirawen listened to her brother, and though there were some slight differences, the words were the same.

" _... Isildur's bane shall waken, and the Halfling forth shall stand."_ Mira finished with Faramir.

Both her brothers turned to her then, shocked that she had had the same dream as them.

"Surely… this must mean something father. All three of us have shared the same vision." Boromir said breaking the silence.

Lord Denethor sat, his hands stroking his chin in thought.

"Father… not three weeks ago, the wizard Gandalf was here… I followed him to the library." Mirawen spoke, and all six eyes were on her. "He was reading about Sauron's ring… from Isildur's account… he said he was looking for answers. _Isildur's_ _bane shall waken_ … I believe the lost ring has been found. It must-"

"I am well aware of the wizard's late night visit." Lord Denethor interrupted her, surely a guard had informed him. "Why is it you did not bring _this_ information to my attention?" He asked her bitterly.

"I thought nothing of it… it has been lost for thousands of years. I did not think it possible… but now." Mira lied, she knew full well that Gandalf had read that particular scroll for a reason.

" _In Imladris it dwells."_ Faramir spoke, bringing their attention back to matter at hand, "That must be where the Ring is… only I've never read of Imladris in any of my studies."

Mira nodded, nor had she. The three of them looked at their father who now stood from his seat and began pacing the room, his back turned to them.

"Rivendell." He said flatly. " _Imladris_ is another name the elves have given it."

" _The Ring is with the elves…"_ Mirawen thought, " _Surely with Gandalf's help… they can keep it out of the enemy's grasp."_

"There is a reason all of us had this dream." Boromir stated.

"Yes," said Lord Denethor, "You must ride to Rivendell, and seek the counsel of Lord Elrond on this matter."

"I will go." Faramir said stepping forward.

"No." Their father answered waving him away. "If indeed it is _the_ Ring in question, it must come back to Gondor, where we can use it against the enemy. I can not trust _you_ to do this."

He sneered at Faramir then turned to face his eldest son, "Boromir, I trust you with this task."

Boromir nodded and accepted the task, his father whispering more commands in his ear. Mira felt uneasy, her heart told her that the Ring coming to Gondor was not a good idea. Fighting against evil with a such a vile weapon… something about it did not feel right.

"Rest today Boromir. You leave for Rivendell at first light tomorrow." Lord Denethor said before exiting the war room.

Later that evening, Mira found herself outside her oldest brother's chambers. She knocked on the door, and seconds later Boromir answered it.

"Mira." He smiled, embracing her in a hug.

It was strange to see her brother without armour these days. He wore only a white cotton tunic and dark brown breeches, and he was much cleaner than he had been when she saw him earlier that morning. Their father had kept Boromir busy all day, preparing for travel and giving him more instructions on his appointed task.

" _So much for resting…"_ Mira thought to herself.

"I've missed you." She said, "and now you're leaving again…" she said holding back tears.

He invited her inside the room and sat her down in the velvet armchair by his fire. His room was much the same as hers, the same navy banner bearing the white tree hung just above his bed. Though, his room was much cleaner as it had remained untouched for so many days.

"It's different this time…" Mira explained, "... you're going to be so far from home… and I don't know when I'll see you again." She couldn't help the worry she felt for him.

"I will be back before you know it, and with the weapon that will turn the tides of this war in our favor." He said proudly.

Sitting down in the chair across from her, he poured her a glass of wine. She took the red drink, thanking him. He held his chalice up to her and she did the same, each of them taking a sip. As the strong drink poured down her throat, she watched him stare into the fire. The troubled feeling she'd had since that morning never left her, and sitting across from Boromir, she knew she had to share her concerns.

"Boromir… I do not think it is wise." She started, his gaze turning away from the dancing flames to meet her green eyes. "The ring… it was _created_ with malicious intent … I do not think we can wield against its vile Master… something tells me that we cannot bend it's will. Bringing the Ring to Gondor… I fear would do more harm than good."

Boromir laughed and took another sip of from his cup, "Mira, you worry too much. It is just a trinket. It does not have feelings… we _will_ win this war, _with_ the Ring. We do not even know for certain if I will find it there."

Mira knew. She knew he would find it there, and she feared that his heart was not strong enough to resist its corrupt temptations. She remembered the words written in Isildur's hand, " _...precious to me… though I buy it with great pain."_

If what she'd read about this "trinket" were true, she was afraid that Boromir too, would buy it with great pain.

"Gondor will miss their Captain." She said, changing the subject.

He smiled, "Faramir will do just fine holding down the fort in my absence."

"I know he will...it's not that I worry about with him…" she said sounding downcast. "...without you here…"

"Do not worry about father." He sighed, knowing what she was trying to say. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned forward and said, "Do not let his words weigh so heavy on your heart Mira. You and Faramir, you will look out for each other, and I expect to see Osgiliath still standing when I return."

She smiled weakly at him, "You have a long journey ahead of you. I should let you get some rest."

Mira began to stand, but Boromir stopped her, gesturing at her cup that remained half full.

"Nonsense… at least stay and finish your drink."

She rolled her eyes but sat back down, and took an exaggerated sip from her glass. She raised an eyebrow at him as if to say ' _Happy?'_ and he chucked, shaking his head at her.

"Seeing as it _is_ my last night here, can we stop with the grim conversation?" He said to her.

Mira smiled at him, and nodded. The two sibling spent the next little while laughing and chatting over another glass of wine. After awhile, Mira said goodnight to her brother, she wasn't sure if it was the wine, or all the reminiscing of happy memories that held her anxious feelings at bay.

The next morning, at dawn, she said her goodbyes to her oldest brother. Standing next to Faramir at the top of the city, they watched his small figure ride westwards, to begin his long journey to Rivendell, land of the elves.

Mira stood in her room later that afternoon, checking over the items she had been collecting over the past several weeks. Slowly, she had been gathering supplies each day so as not to raise suspicion. Her pack was full, and her Medbag had more than enough supplies.

Their father had instructed his younger two children to return to Osgiliath. Faramir was to be named Captain while Boromir was away, and Lord Denethor wanted to see to it that Osgiliath remained in their hands.

Mira folded up the map of Middle Earth she had taken from her father's study and tucked it into her pack. She pushed aside the wrapped breads and fruit she had stolen from the kitchens to make room for her waterskin that she had filled up that morning. She had been preparing, just like her Uncle had warned them to. She would be ready.

Hours later, donned in their travel armour, the siblings found themselves in the walls of Osgiliath just as night had fallen. Dismounting her horse, Mira led Argo to the stables while Faramir went to meet with Madril.

The anxious feeling came bubbling back up in her stomach as she made her way to her sleeping quarters. Laying her bags and weapons next to her she lay down on her bedroll. It felt like she was sleeping on the stone floor itself after almost a month of sleeping in her own bed. The pains in her stomach grew as she tossed and turned trying to will herself to sleep, and eventually after what seemed like an eternity, Mirawen lay still and her breaths slowed.

Her dream came to her one more time, and she watched as her dream self waded into the river. She finally recognized the surroundings… and the river Anduin, how had she not noticed this before? A cold feeling overcame her, as if she herself was waist deep in water, and not only in her dream. Slowly, dream Mira approached the white canoe as she had done so many times before, only this time when her eyes reached the man's face, she could see it clear as day. _No!_

Her eyes shot open, and clutching her heaving chest, she cried out, "Boromir!"

 **A/N:** _There we have it! Next chapter will be the start of Mira's journey, and the action we have been waiting for will soon begin!_

 _Thank you to everyone for patiently reading through all the chapters that lead up to this, I hope Mira's character and backstory has been well established._

 _Next chapter should be up next week, all reviews are appreciated, thank you to everyone who has left one thus far :)_

 _Until next time,  
-Buttercup_


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N:** _I only own Mirawen, everything else belongs to Tolkien._

Map laid out before her, Mira studied it intently, eyes squinting in the dark as her only source of light came from the full moon above her in the black sky. If she was going to do this, truly, _do_ this, she needed to be prepared. Every second she wasted, Boromir got further and further ahead, and the image of his still body, and pale, lifeless face haunted her every waking moment.

Mirawen now understood just what it was she had been preparing for these past few weeks. It was no mere coincidence that the three siblings had heard the same prophecy in their shared dream, just as she knew it was no mere coincidence that it was Boromir's face she had seen. She was meant to go after him, to stop this ill-fate she had dreamed of, she knew it in her heart.

Lady Mirawen had never left Gondor's borders before, and it would be a long journey far from home, her destination being almost a thousand miles away. She was grateful she had paid attention during Golunir's many geography lessons, having always been fascinated by all the realms of Middle Earth it was one of his teachings she had been most interested in. Her knowledge of the lands, despite having never set foot in them, combined with her skills in the wild from her years of serving with the Rangers, would come in handy.

Biting her lip, she grabbed a piece of charcoal and traced out her path on the worn map of Middle Earth. If she had measured the distance properly, it would take her nearly a month to reach the land of Rivendell. Of course that was the best case scenario, her travel time was entirely dependant on the conditions, and she hoped they would be in her favor just as much as she hoped she would find no trouble along the way.

Ducking back inside of her sleeping quarters, she fumbled around in the dark, dressing in her armour as quickly and quietly as she could. Muscle memory made fast work of tightening all of her laces. Mira threw on her pack which contained food, water, extra clothes, and the journal from Ioreth, before attaching the MedBag to her belt. Hastily, she proceeded to gather her weapons, the last being the dagger from Edwin that she slipped into its holdings attached to her calf.

Throwing on her cloak, she rolled up her bedroll and tucked it underneath her arm, checking to make sure the coast was clear before leaving her sleeping quarters. Keeping in the shadows, to avoid any guards on their rounds, she stealthily made her way to the armoury. She wasted no time in grabbing a small hunting bow, and a quiver full of arrows. Quickly throwing them on, she re-emerged and following the shadows once more she made her way over to the stables.

"Shh…" She cooed, calming him down as her horse was excited to see his master.

"We have to be quiet boy, I don't want anyone to see us." She whispered, stroking his mane. Argo tilted his head curiously, as he noticed that she donned full travel gear, and he wondered where they would be going, but he listened to his master and remained quiet.

Mira immediately set to work at readying her steed for their long journey ahead. Taking a large bite of an apple, she held the rest out to her horse, which he ate in one gulp.

"You'll need your energy boy," she said softly as she tightened the saddle, "Tis a long ways away where we're headed."

"And where is it exactly? This place you're headed to so late at night?" Faramir's stern voice startled her, and she turned around, eyes as wide as saucers, to see her brother standing a few feet behind her, arms crossed.

"Mirawen." He repeated, as she was frozen and at a loss for words. He took in her appearance, seeing that she looked as if she were heading off to war, how heavily armed she was, and he knew then what her plan was.

"You mean to follow Boromir." He stated, letting out a sigh.

Mira nodded slowly, letting go of her tight hold on the saddle and turning to face him. "I have to."

"You don't. Mira, Boromir doesn't need you to follow him." He said, sounding more stern this time as he took a step towards her.

"Faramir. I _have_ to." She pleaded, her eyes meeting his.

He sighed, and Mirawen continued. "I can't explain it… and I do not expect you to understand… but please, _please_ believe when I tell you I have to do this."

"Help me try to understand, sister." He said, placing a hand on her face he wiped away the lone tear that slipped out of her water-rimmed eyes.

"I fear that our brother is in great danger, Faramir." She told him, "The same dream we shared, it has been haunting my dreams for months, in bits and pieces. Last night was the first time I saw it in full, from beginning to end. When I saw Gandalf, he cautioned me to listen to my heart, and, well... I am."

Mira looked deep into his eyes, and he could see the truth in them, she urged him, "Please understand, I do not take this light of heart… this is not just some adventure… I know I am meant to follow after him, I have to prevent what I saw from happening."

When she finished she was holding back tears and Faramir pulled her into him, pressing a hard kiss on the top of her head. As much as he did not want her to go, he believed what his sister had told him.

"It is a dangerous road you follow." He told her.

"I know." She said, her head pressed against his chest.

"Something else plagues your mind." Faramir stated, causing Mira to smile weakly, he always could read her. He could feel her nodding her head against him.

"If what l have read about the Ring is true…" She started.

She raised her eyes to meet her older brother's and he could see the fear in her eyes when she spoke.

"It is treacherous… bringing it to Gondor would be foolish… it would leave us even more vulnerable to the enemy, and I am uncertain we would be able to properly wield it. Father… he won't understand… he sees it only as a powerful token, and Boromir… I fear he is just as blind. I cannot let him bring it here." She pleaded to him.

Faramir nodded, he had agreed with her and shared the same concerns.

"It would be most unwise for you to travel alone. Let me come with you then." He offered.

"Gondor needs you here, Faramir." She sighed, taking a step back she met her brother's concerned gaze.

Placing a hand on his broad shoulder she said, "When the time comes, it will need you more than ever."

"Father will be furious." He said to her lightheartedly, smirking although there was seriousness to his words.

"You never saw me leave." She told him firmly, knowing the repercussions he would face if Lord Denethor found out Faramir didn't stop her.

Turning from her he began to leave the stables, "Just… wait a moment. Do not leave yet." He said, holding his hand up as he walked away briskly.

Mira waited for him, and several minutes later he reappeared in the stables. He held out a small brown pouch to her, and when she took it, the bag made a jingling sound only coins could make. Mira looked up at him thoughtfully, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Faramir beat her to it.

"There is enough in there for you to pay for a hot meal and a night's stay, it should see you through your entire journey to Rivendell." He explained.

"I do not want you sleeping out in the open in these times Mira." He added, "It will be safer for you to stay at an Inn."

She nodded in agreement and thanked him before putting the pouch into one of the saddlebags on her horse.

"Mira. Promise me you will be safe… what road do you plan on taking?" He asked her, his voice serious.

She showed him the map where she had drawn out her planned route, "If I leave now I can slip past Minas Tirith undetected." She explained.

She knew it was not wise to travel in the night, but with the cover of darkness she could ride past her city unnoticed. The last thing she needed was a guard spotting her and alerting her father. Her finger traced along the dotted lines of the North road that cut through Rohan.

"Once I reach Bree, I can take the East road towards Rivendell. It would be faster if I followed the Great River Northwards… but I dare not take the high pass over the Misty Mountains alone…" She explained.

Faramir nodded at her, she had chosen the safest route and he felt a little better about her leaving after their brother.

"Mira… you must not let anyone know who you truly are until you reach the safety of Rivendell." He cautioned, "If people learn you are the Steward's daughter…" He trailed off.

"I understand." She nodded, it was something she had thought of as well.

"It will be considered strange… a woman travelling alone, clad as you are." He gestured to her weapons, the ones that were in sight anyways. "If anyone asks you… you are a healer, and you are meeting an old friend in Bree before heading off to Dale together. It may raise questions if they find out you are travelling to the land of the elves." He warned her.

Mira agreed with him and promised she would come up with a story and stick to it along the way. Faramir pulled her to him, and hugged her tightly, not wanting to let her go.

He whispered, holding back the tears that threatened to escape, "Promise me you will come home Mirawen."

"I promise." She whispered back, holding him just as tight. "And you must promise that you will be here when I return."

He nodded, and quietly answered her, "I promise."

Both their eyes found their way across the river, gazing East to where the land of Mordor resided. Turning to each other they shared a knowing look, the danger Mira was about to put herself in was eating away at Faramir, while Mira feared he was in just as much danger with the enemy so close. Across the horizon, the first bits of light began to peak through the dark clouds signalling that dawn was near. It was time to go.

"I'll escort you to the road." Faramir said to her, breaking their small moment of silence.

"No." Mira said, shaking her head. "No one can see you helping me leave. If father finds out..."

Faramir nodded sadly, and pulled his sister in for one last embrace and they bid their farewells, he sighed when they broke apart. Getting one last look at his sister, he stared at her with admiration. When had his sister grown to be such a fearless young woman? He longed for the days of innocence when they would chase each other through the halls. She was strong, he acknowledged, but that did not ease his worries.

"I love you sister." He told her, as Mira stood in front of her horse, holding onto the reins.

"I love you brother." She said to him, placing her palm on his cheek, she let it linger a moment before she began to walk away.

Mira pulled her hood over her head and quietly led Argo away from the stables, she did not look back but she could feel her brother's eyes on her until she disappeared around the corner.

Faramir followed his sister, keeping to the shadows so no one would see him, until he got to the bottom of a set of stone steps. Hurrying up the stairway, skipping every second step, he made it to the top of the tower that looked overlooked the fields of Pelennor where he could see Minas Tirith in the far distance, tiny as it was.

His eyes found the road and after several moments, they landed his sister. He watched her ride off into the distance, away from Osgiliath, until he could no longer see her, praying, to whoever was listening that they would watch over her and keep her safe. He prayed that they _all_ would be safe, and reunite in Minas Tirith, and he prayed a day would come when they no longer had to fight against the evils of Mordor.

The sun cast a red glow as it founds it resting place in the sky, and Faramir knew in his heart, that from here on out, their fight was only going to get harder. Taking a deep breath, he headed down the staircase towards his own sleeping quarters, hoping to get some rest before his first briefing of the day.

Off in the distance, Mirawen rode hard, and had managed to slip past Minas Tirith before the sun rose in its entirety. Once she reached the end of the border she paused and looked behind her, " _This is it…"_ she thought, and she pushed Argo forward, crossing into the kingdom of Rohan, she left her home behind.

And so began the journey of Lady Mirawen of Gondor, there was no looking back now.

 **A/N:** _Thank you to all for following/favoriting/reviewing my story! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, there was a bit more of Faramir and Mira in this one, since we won't be seeing him for awhile, and I hope you enjoyed their goodbyes._

 _I am considering switching to 1st person for Mira's POV from here on out, now that we are officially on her journey, I will keep it 3rd person for the POV of other characters (which I will note and add a page break for to avoid confusion)_

 _Let me know your thoughts, I love hearing from you._

 _Until next time,_

 _-Buttercup_


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N:** _I apologize for the long wait with this one, I was away for a bit during Spring Break with family and when I got back I wasn't feeling too well or up to editing. When I was finally up to it I ended up re-writing half of this chapter._

 _Thank you for the follows, favorites and reviews! As always, everything familiar belongs to Tolkien, I only hold claim over my OC Mirawen._

 _ **MasonJ & coffeebookchiller: **__Thank you both for your feedback! I hummed and hawed over it and decided to stick with 3rd, I tried to picture 1st in my head for this story, and it just seemed unnatural._

 _Hope you enjoy this chapter! Feel free to leave a review and let me know your thoughts, I always love and appreciate them._

 _ **PS:**_ _I just looked back over some of my old chapters, and realized that the page breaks I put in disappeared when I posted them! I use the Docs app on my phone and copy/paste, so I'm going to try something different for them from now on, and I plan on going back and adding the breaks back into chapters that lost them. I apologize if there has been any confusion while reading, as I was using them to signal little jumps in time. Oy vey!_

 _Sorry for the long note, now on with Mira's story! Enjoy!_

 _XXXX_

Three sunsets had passed since Mirawen had left the lands of Gondor behind in search of her eldest brother Boromir. She had managed to find only one Inn to stay the night in since she had entered the realm of the Horse Lords. It was a vast land of green fields, more than she'd ever seen in her life.

So far she had not found any trouble, and no one in the village had asked her any questions. The innkeeper took the gold she had given him, and in exchange she had been given a place to sleep and a bowl of warm stew and some bread.

On the fourth morning, after a much needed rest she awoke just as the sun made its way into the sky. She noticed that the sky was not as dark here, for the evils of Mordor had not yet seemed to slither its way into Rohan. She knew that if Faramir and their armies couldn't hold them, then the darkness would soon cover these lands, and all the lands of Middle Earth. The thought made her need to make haste that much more dire, and she decided that after a quick meal she should be on her way.

Mira quickly dressed and gathered her things, placing her sword in its sheath on her hip and made her way to the small kitchenette. The innkeeper's wife was the only one awake, and she quickly set down a bowl of warm porridge and small piece of bread on the table for Mirawen. She thanked the woman and broke her fast, savouring each bite for she did not know how long it would be until her next warm meal.

The older woman eyed her warily from behind the counter, trying to be discreet while washing dishes, but Mira could feel the woman's eyes burning her. Subconsciously, Mira pulled her hair in front of her face to cover the violent pink scar, people always stared.

Though no one had asked her any questions, she knew they thought it strange to see a woman travelling alone, and armed so heavily. Mira wondered if it was her scar, the weapons she bore, or a combination of the two that kept people away, scared to ask her the wrong question, for fear of repercussion from the armed woman.

Mira was unsure how much further down the road it would be until she reached the next village, and from the wary looks the innkeeper and his wife had given her since her arrival, she did not want to ask directions. While she ate, she had rolled out the map on the table and studied it, ultimately deciding she would just continue to follow the road until she reached another rest stop.

Mira had taken Faramir's advice to stick to her story, and had erased the last leg of her journey from the map, marking her final destination as Bree. If anyone was to question her and find a map marked to Rivendell, they would find her a liar. Mira feared what would happen to a caught liar in foreign lands, and she would only reveal her true identity as a last resort, but by then, who would believe her?

Mira rolled up the map, and quickly got up, startling the innkeeper's wife, when the sounds of the wooden chair scraped against the ground. Leaving a silver coin on the table in thanks, Mira nodded at the older woman, who watched her quietly as she left the Inn.

Once she reached her horse, who was waiting for her eagerly, it did not take long before they were off. The pair made their way back onto the road and followed it North, the summer sun warming her back as it rose higher into the clear sky. Hours passed by slowly and soon her stomach began to rumble. Mira pulled on the reins, steering Argo left, and they made their way towards a formation of rocks where they could fill their bellies while staying out of site.

While Argo nibbled on the oats she had put out for him, Mira quickly finished a piece of dried meat and cherry tomatoes. She greedily drank the last drops of water from her waterskin, silently cursing herself for not thinking to refill it at the Inn. It was warmer in Rohan, and she needed to stay hydrated, she would need to find somewhere to refill it and soon.

Once they'd had their fill, Mira slowly stood and stretched her sore limbs, noticing Argo seemed anxious she moved to his side to calm him. Before she could climb back into the saddle, she froze, hearing a familiar snarling sound behind her.

Mira didn't have time to think as she drew her sword and swung it behind her just in time, hearing the familiar sound of swords clashing that she had been lucky to avoid thus far. Grunting, she blocked the sword that had swung down at her and kicked the orc in the belly before stabbing it through the neck.

It was a scout, she realized, before she heard a loud shout coming from its companion, more than likely alerting a nearby group of their whereabouts. She did not want to stay long enough to find out, and grabbing one of the knives out of her boot, she launched it at the second orc who fell to the ground with a loud thump.

' _Pity… I liked that one.'_ She thought as she swung herself up onto Argo, no time to retrieve the knife, and urged him into a gallop. Ducking as arrows flew past her head, she looked back to see a small group of orcs chasing after her. Their armour looked vaguely familiar and she scrutinized the white hand plastered on their helmets and breastplates. Edwin's face popped into her mind, and she had a sudden flashback to the day she got her scar.

"Ride hard, Argo!" She shouted, desperately pushing her horse into a faster gallop as more arrows shot by her, narrowly missing her head.

Mira could not seem to shake them off, and she looked back once more when Argo suddenly came to a halt, lurching her body forward against his neck. Her eyes widened and she felt panic creep in as she lifted her head up. They had been cut off by another group of orcs joining the first one, and now she was surrounded.

Her heart beat hard in her chest underneath the thick leather doublet, and she could feel her mother's necklace digging into her bare chest with each breath she took. Argo neighed nervously, while Mira drew her sword and tried to sort out in her head how she was going to get out of this mess, the odds were not in her favor. She was alone, and she was surrounded by at least twenty foes. There was no time to come up with a plan, but Mira knew she had to get out of this unscathed… somehow.

The orcs from behind were beginning to catch up while the ones in front of her charged towards her, time to think had run out. Striking down an orc that came too close for her liking, Mira grunted as she pulled the sword that was stained black with orc blood while the enemy fell down onto the grassy plain. Argo kicked an orc coming from behind him with his large hooves, getting it right in the head and knocking the enemy out.

Mira blocked another attack and stabbed her assailant in the cheek, not watching as he fell lifeless to the ground. She turned to take on the next enemy, sword in one hand, and Argo's reins held tightly in the other.

She was trapped, and Argo moved to the left just in time as an enemy sword came slashing down against the air causing a whooshing sound. Mira silently thanked her horse and patted his neck, for the sword surely would have hit her right in the thigh had he not moved out of the way.

Mira sighed, looking around her, and it would seem all hope was lost, when suddenly she heard a horn blowing from a short distance away, immediately followed by a thunderous sound. The ground shook beneath her as a large group of riders swarmed the orcs and took them out, while Mira worked on eliminating the foul creatures closest to her.

 _XXXX_

It did not take long until the orcs all lay in a heap on the ground, unmoving, not one had managed to escape. Mira breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the riders who had come to her aid. Suddenly, Mira found herself being surrounded once more, only this time she was not as fearful. There were so many men on horseback, she could not count, but if she had to guess, there were at least a hundred or more.

She watched from her spot as the riders formed a circle around her and a man, who she assumed was their leader, came forward and rode up beside her.

"What business do you have here in the Riddermark?" He asked sternly.

He wore a helmet that covered his face, but it did not hide the fact that his eyes were scrutinizing her.

Mirawen turned to face him, her hood slipping off revealing long red hair, that was braided away from her face. The man seemed to be taken aback when he realized it was a woman he was speaking to, and a rather fair one at that. He caught sight of her scar, and he wondered how such a fair maiden had come to acquire such a wound.

"Apologies, milady." He said, removing his helmet. "What are you doing travelling alone through these lands in such dangerous times?"

Mirawen took in his appearance, he seemed to be young, perhaps not much older than herself. The man's skin was far more sunkissed than hers. The lands of Rohan did not offer nearly as much shade in its vast open fields as the forests of Ithilien did back home. His hair was a golden blonde, like the color of straw and reached just past his shoulders, while half of it was pulled away from his face.

What really stood out to her were his eyes, they were hazel, with a hint of green that she could probably only see due to the sun shining down on them. Despite his authoritative demeanour and stern voice from moments ago, she noticed that above all else, his eyes were kind, and though he appeared to be young, she could tell that his eyes had seen much.

"Forgive me, ser." Mira started, "I do not mean to cause trouble… I am only following the North Road to reach the city of Bree." She answered him, softening her voice.

Mira had lots of time to rehearse her tale during her time on the road. She was confident in her story, down to the last detail.

"Do you have a name miss?" He asked her.

"Lenniel." Mira answered, using the name of her handmaiden from back home as her cover.

"My name is Eomer." He introduced himself. "There is a small village just a few miles north past the Folde. We will accompany you there where you can rest, and you can tell me more of what has you travelling to Bree alone."

Eomer put his helmet back on and called for his company to follow him, he rode next to her which gave her some comfort. Though, Mira was nervous to delay her journey too much, as Boromir had already gotten a headstart on her.

 _XXXX_

His Eored, which Mirawen had learned it was called, made camp on the outskirts of the village, while Eomer accompanied her to the Inn. He handed the innkeeper several coins despite her protests that she could pay for herself, and the large man brought over two plates of roast meat and root vegetables.

They ate in silence and once finished, Eomer made a signal with his hand, and the innkeeper brought over two pint sized mugs made of metal. She took a large gulp of the ale, and swallowed it down. Over the years she had become accustomed to the bitter drink, as it was what the Rangers would drink in the field. Though the first time she had tasted it, she nearly choked at the taste of it, coughing so hard it came out her nose.

She fondly remembered the laughter of her brothers at the sight of her, it was a happy memory, for they had been celebrating a victory. The first victory Mira had been a part of since joining the rangers as a healer.

It was Eomer who was first to speak, breaking her from her thoughts.

"So Lenniel. Where are you travelling from?" He asked.

"I hail from Minas Tirith, milord. There I work in the Houses of Healing. My father, is a merchant in the fur trade, he has been travelling alone for many years. I am meeting him at our rendezvous point in Bree, and we will travel to Dale together." Mira answered him, before taking another sip from her mug.

Eomer stroked his beard thoughtfully as he took in what she said.

"Why did he not just meet you in Minas Tirith? It would be safer for you that way."

"My father is sick." Mira sighed, fully invested in her story. "And I can handle my own just fine."

He raised his eyebrow at her, "And just how were you going to get out of that situation you found yourself in earlier? If my riders and I had not shown up when we did?"

Shrugging, she coyly said "I would have figured something out."

When she turned, the light hit her face and Eomer noticed her scar once more. He reached out and gently touched it, stroking her cheek with his bare fingers. She shivered nervously, it was a bold move on his part, but he'd had a few drinks. Recoiling from his touch, and turning to face him she glared.

"Forgive me, milady." He said, sounding ashamed. "It is just… I wonder how you got that scar?"

"It was many years ago." She sighed, and continuing her false tale she answered him. "We were travelling together, my father and I, just along the borders of Ithilien when we were ambushed by a small band of orcs. My father managed to fight them off, but I got this…"

Mira gestured to her face, before pulling her hair to hide it from his sight.

"After that, he trained me to defend myself with weapons; we travelled Middle Earth together for many years. When we were ambushed a second time he decided it would be safer for me to stay in one place. In Lossanarch we met a woman named Ioreth, she is a skilled healer, and she took me under her guidance. We eventually left the small town for the city of Minas Tirith, where we both work." Mira finished, taking another sip of her drink until the cup was empty.

"I see, I apologize for all the questions. We cannot allow anyone to roam freely through our lands, not in these times…" he said.

Mirawen studied him curiously, perhaps it was the ale thinking for her, but she found he was quite handsome. She quickly shrugged away the thought, turning her head away from him as she felt her cheeks go flush, she had made a promise to herself long ago and she had intended to keep it. He ordered them another round of drinks, and the innkeeper came over to refill their flagons.

"May I ask why Dale?" He asked.

"I thought we were done with the questions." She said, smirking at him and taking a sip from her refilled mug. "My father is from there… and it is his final wish to return home… I've never been there myself, and ever since my mother…" Mira paused, "...well, I promised I would go with him."

Mira could see empathy in his eyes, and wondered if he maybe understood what 'Lenniel' had been through. There was some truth that inspired her story; her mother, Lady Finduilas had always longed to return to her home in Dol Amroth, but had never gotten the chance before she passed. It is somewhere Mira longed to go one day, but the war and her duties had prevented her from doing so.

"I see." He said, taking a large gulp he slammed his empty mug down on the table. "Go get some rest milady, my Eored and I will see you through to the edge of Rohan's borders."

"I cannot ask that of you, I do not want to take you away from your duties." She told him.

In truth she was worried that she would let slip the real reason for her travel, and she wondered if he was trying to loosen her lips with drink. Lucky for her, she had rehearsed her story many times in her head, and unlucky for him, she could hold her liquor.

He got up to leave, and bid her a goodnight. "I shall see you in the morning milady."

Mirawen finished her drink and got up herself, calling after him she said. "I'm no lady, milord, nor am I deserving of any titles. Please… just call me Lenniel."

He only smiled, and gave her a slight bow, before leaving the warmth of the Inn to join his men at their camp.

 _XXXX_

After breaking her fast the next morning, she was escorted to the Eored camp by a young soldier who did not speak to her. Once she arrived, she was greeted by the sight of a visibly frustrated man trying to calm down her horse, while another tried to place the saddle on his back. Mira chuckled to herself, Argo was quite a particular horse, he would not let just anyone near him, especially strangers.

Eomer approached her horse then, grabbing his reins from the exasperated soldier, and she watched as he appeared to begin whispering into his ear as he stroked Argo's mane. She was shocked, to say the least, when Argo became visibly calmer, and allowed Eomer to place the saddle on his back.

"What are you, some kind of horse whisperer?" Mira teased walking up behind him.

Argo stepped protectively in front of his master, blocking her from sight. She whispered in his ears, calming him down more and he stepped aside.

"That is quite the bond you have with your horse, mi- Lenniel." He said, correcting himself, he had never seen a rider outside of the Rohirrim have such a strong bond with their steed.

Mirawen smiled at him, and turned to pat her horse on his forehead, "Yes, he is quite protective of me."

"You say you are a healer of Minas Tirith…" He said suspiciously. "How is it you came to acquire such a horse?"

"I have had Argo here since we were both young." She said fondly, stroking his mane. "He was a birthday present." That part was true. "My father won him in a bet, though it did cost him some of his most luxurious furs."

He nodded at her, and though he looked uncertain, he said nothing.

"We ride out in five minutes." He told her.

As he walked away, Mira called out, "I thank you for getting Argo ready milord, but I am quite capable of doing it myself."

He turned to her, and smirking he said, "I've no doubt you are."

 _XXXX_

Travelling with an entourage made Mira feel much safer, and she would miss that feeling when she was alone once more. Mira hoped she would be able to catch up to Boromir on the road where they could ride to Rivendell together. Though, she knew Boromir would be angry with her, he would not send her back alone, and he would have no choice but to bring her to Rivendell with him.

Eomer had told her it would be a four day journey across the vast plains of the Westfold, as he did not want to venture too close to Isengard, he had his suspicions that the wizard Saruman had turned against them. Mira was surprised to hear this news, but her mind flashed back to the group of orcs that bore what she had learned was his mark on their armour, _the White Hand_.

It had been two days of travelling, and Eomer had kept 'Lenniel' close to his side the entire time, even keeping his tent next to hers, making it his personal mission to keep her safe. Mira had the suspicion that he was also trying to keep an eye on her, she was still a stranger.

As she got to know more about him during their travels, she began to feel terrible for lying to him about who she was, and almost slipped up a few times, before catching herself.

" _He cannot know who you are Mira."_ She chastised herself, " _It matters not, for soon you will be off and you are not like to see him again."_

Mira was surprised to learn that he was the nephew of King Theoden, and second in line to the throne if the King's son did not produce an heir. She smirked to herself, as she remembered once overhearing a conversation between her parents when she was 10 about whether or not to arrange a marriage between Prince Theodred and herself.

Lord Eomer had shared with 'Lenniel' that his Uncle had adopted both him and his sister when their parents had died, perhaps making him more empathetic to her story. As the days passed by, they grew more comfortable with each other and Mira shared with him how her own mother had passed on, down to the detail, though she left out her mother's _true_ identity.

"We stop here." Eomer called out to his cavalry.

Mirawen dismounted her own horse, and began to set up her small tent for the night. Once she had her bedroll laid out, she dug through her bags and grabbed some fruits to leave out for Argo. They had been journeying since dawn, having only stopped once during the day, and she knew the horse would need to keep his energy up if they were to make it to Rivendell.

Soon the sky turned a beautiful shade of golden yellow, intertwined with dusty pinks as the sun began to set for the day. It painted a different picture here in Rohan, she thought; the horizon was endless here. Mira wandered off towards the edge of their camp, finding a spot near the hilltop where she could sit and enjoy the sunset. The air seemed cleaner here, compared to back home, and each breath she took, she held onto a little longer.

"It never gets old." Eomer's voice came suddenly, as he sat down beside her.

"It is like nothing I have ever seen." She said, mesmerized by it all.

He watched her as she gazed across the horizon, and he found himself mesmerized by her. Lord Eomer noticed how her emerald eyes shone differently in the setting sun, her hair appearing more crimson from the different light.

"Back home… the sky is darkened from the smog leaking out of Mordor, the sun casts an eerie red glow on our lands… the sky is on fire there, and I fear it will not be long before the same fire reaches the land beneath it." She told him honestly.

"I do not think the Steward of Gondor will let that happen." He told her.

Mirawen scoffed, and Eomer looked taken aback at her obvious disdain to the leader of her country.

"The Steward is but a shell of the man he once was…" She said bitterly. "... the weight of Gondor rests upon his son's shoulders. Lord Boromir is noble and a valiant warrior… but these dark days take a toll on us all."

"I've heard many a tale of the brave Captain of Gondor, he is someone I admire greatly as a warrior." Eomer said, and Mira held back the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. "You seem to know quite a bit about the Steward and his family."

Mirawen could feel a bead of sweat drip down her neck, and she had to think of something quickly, before she gave herself away, that was far too close for her liking.

"Lord Denethor's sons are not invincible milord." She chuckled. "They bleed the same as everyone else, and you do not work in the Houses of Healing without tending to them once or twice." Mira stated.

Eomer stayed silent, nodding his head.

"Did you ever work with the Stewards daughter?" He asked her, and Mira froze. "I've heard many stories of her bravery from travellers, my younger sister idolizes the woman."

Mira could not face him and she forced down the blush that threatened to give away her position.

"Yes, she too, learned from my mentor." Mira answered him. "Though, she spends most of her days alongside her brother's in Ithilien… I remain in the city, so I do not see her as often as I once did."

It was the safe answer, and she thought of the young Rohirric woman who idolized her so, Mira did not think she was someone to look up to.

"Your sister should not so easily idolize the woman." Mira stated and looked over to Eomer. "Lady Mirawen… she too is but a shell of her former self, it is all a facade. She is not brave milord, she runs solely on fear of the darkness that slowly takes its toll on us all."

Eomer looked at her thoughtfully, considering her words for a moment, before standing.

"We all run on fear Lenniel, that is what makes us brave." He said and bid her goodnight, leaving Mira to think over his own words.

 _XXXX_

They had been travelling for hours, Lord Eomer had woken them all at dawn and they were back on the road once more. Mira's body ached from the long days on horseback, she was not used to such long travel. He had informed them that they would not stop until they reached the next village, and she found herself longing for the comfort of a warm bed.

Eomer rode several paces ahead of her today, instead of by her side, and Mira found it strange. He was avoiding her, though she did not know why, but she found herself missing his company. His eyes had met hers a few times when he glanced back at her, and he seemed to be conflicted about something.

A short time later, the outlines of a village appeared in the Valley, its homes built on a hill, surrounded by walls and a large gate at its center. At the highest point of the hill sat a large building, larger and more grand than anything she'd seen thus far during her time in Rohan.

Behind the hill was a large mountain, its peaks covered in snow even in the summer months. Squinting her eyes Mira could spot Rohan's banner, displaying a white horse, waving proudly in the breeze.

It seemed far too grand to be just a regular village, it was more like a city. Not knowing where she was, she asked the rider closest to her of their location.

"Edoras." He grunted out. "We ride to the hall of Meduseld."

Mirawen felt her heart leap into her chest, why was Eomer taking her to see the King? She could not afford this delay. She felt anger rise within her, and she felt deceived by the young Marshal. Kicking her boots into her horses sides, she steered Argo to ride up beside the man.

"Lord Eomer!" She snapped.

The man refused to look her in the eyes, as he felt guilty for deceiving her.

"I am sorry Lenniel. It is the law of our land." He said, his expression deadpan.

The gates to the city opened, allowing them entry into Edoras, and Mirawen let out the breath she was holding. She rode in silence by Eomer's side until the two along with a handful of riders reached the steps of the Golden Hall.

Eomer dismounted his horse and removed his helmet and he faced Mirawen, helping her down from her own horse. She noticed the guilt then, in his eyes, and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I will see to it that Argo is taken care of Lenniel." Eomer told her. "I am sorry for not telling you sooner, I feared you would run off."

Mira looked at her feet, she probably would have, had she known.

"If you had run off, even I would not be able to help you." He told her seriously. "Tell the King what you told me… and all will be well. I still intend to accompany you to the borders."

She nodded her head at him, and warily eyed the doors to the hall where two guards stood watching her in return. Eomer grabbed the two horses reins, and before he headed off towards the stables he whispered to her.

"Take caution in there… _Grima_ , my uncle's new advisor… I do not trust him." He spat out the man's name like it was poison on his tongue. "Nor should you."

"Thank you." She whispered in return, and slowly she made her way to the entrance.

The guards stopped her before she could enter, and she gave them her reasoning, _Lenniel's_ reasoning for seeking council from the King. The guard on her right ordered her to remove her weapons, and though she was hesitant to be parted from them, she did not want to give the King and his company any reason to distrust her. Lying about her identity, was offensive enough on its own.

The large doors creaked as they were pushed open, and Lady Mirawen took a deep breath before stepping across the threshold.


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N:** _I only own Lady Mirawen, everything else is Tolkien's._

A warm golden sun shone down, peeking through wooden slats in the stable walls where Lady Mirawen could be found tenderly brushing the black mane of her bay horse Argo.

"Shh..." She cooed, calming him. "It will not be much longer boy. I know you are as eager as I am to leave this place."

They were leaving today, and she was finally able to let out the breath she'd been holding for days on end, anxiously waiting to hear King Theoden's decision. Mira had a suspicion, however that it was not the King who had much say around here as of late.

It may have been the King's voice that spoke to his people, but the words were not his own. They belonged to that of his slimy advisor, Grima, otherwise known as the _Wormtongue_. Rohan's people, appeared to be wary of the man, if you could call him that; only the King seemed to be blind when it came to Grima.

Mira did not trust him, and in turn, Grima did not seem to trust her. For near a week, she had been kept in the dark, and part of her worried she would not be given leave by the King. Mira knew it was intentional, this waiting game, the way the Wormtongue analyzed her upon her arrival, she wondered if he knew who she was.

Was he waiting for her to slip up? He always had someone trailing her, she knew it was one of Grima's men, not the King's; Lord Eomer had told her that Grima had men under his employ who were not loyal to Rohan. She couldn't risk being sent back to Gondor, to the mercy of her father, where she surely would not see the light of day for a long time.

So Mira was on her guard, her entire stay, even in the small room with the bed of straw they had given her. Mira would not be surprised if Grima had ears everywhere. It was exhausting, and she was relieved when she had been informed she could continue on her way.

Rohan, had not been at all what Lady Mirawen had expected, and she was glad to be leaving it behind.

 **SIX DAYS EARLIER**

 _Lady Mirawen nervously stepped forward, approaching King Theoden who sat upon his throne in the Golden Hall._

 _It was quite dreary, the hall, and not worthy of its namesake, Mira had decided._

 _There was a quiet tension in the air, only the sounds of her footsteps could be heard as she approached the throne. Several pairs of eyes were fixed on her, watching her every move, and Mira felt uneasy, as if she were swimming in shark infested waters._

 _The nearer she got, the more she noticed King Theoden appeared weary, his skin was sallow and quite pale, while his eyes appeared dull and lifeless. Once she was close enough, she kneeled before the King, and bowed her head, as was custom._

 _When he bid her to rise, she noticed a man dressed all in black circle in front of the King, he had not been there just moments ago._

 _His oily black hair was in stark contrast to his pale clammy looking skin, which was even whiter than the King's sickly coloring. With his beady eyes, he scrutinized her, looking her up and down before whispering something in the King's ear, without taking his eyes off of her._

 _Her stomach tightened, and she swallowed the lump in her throat._

' _This must be Grima.' Mira thought to herself, subtly watching his every move through the corner of her eye, recalling Eomer's warning. 'I'll have to tread carefully…'_

" _Who are you, and what brings you before the King?" Grima asked her, stepping forward and standing a foot in front of the King._

' _His words are as slimy as his appearance…' Mira thought. 'No wonder they call him Wormtongue…'_

" _My name is Lenniel, I am a healer from Minas Tirith. I come to ask permission from the King to travel across his lands…" Mira started, and repeated the same fabricated story she had told Eomer days ago._

 _She told them of how she was attacked by a band of orcs when Eomer's men happened upon her, saving her life._

" _I am forever in debt to Lord Eomer and his riders, and to Rohan, my Lord, for without them, I would not be here today…" she continued, bowing her head in respect._

 _Grima, along with a few others listened to her tale, contemplating her words, and when she finished they had one of the men escort her to a guest chamber._

" _Thank you, Lenniel." Grima spoke. "We will summon you when we reach a decision."_

 _What Lady Mirawen did not know, was that Grima did not believe a word of her story. The King's advisor recognized her at first glance, having heard stories of the Steward of Gondor's daughter with hair the color of fire._

 _It was her scar that gave her away, and no one else seemed to recognize her, she had these weak-minded men easily fooled with her farce of a story. He decided to keep her true identity secret for now._

 _Grima watched her with a sinister smile as she was escorted from the throne room, and he nodded to his men who bowed their heads in return._

 _He would have eyes on her at all times, in the meantime, he would decide what to do with her while waiting for the Lady to slip up._

 **PRESENT**

Soft footsteps approached, the mulch crunching beneath their feet, and Mira turned to face Lady Eowyn , the sister of Eomer and niece of the King. The girl who had become a fast friend to her during her stay.

"Here." Eowyn spoke, holding out several cloth-wrapped items for Mira to take.

Eowyn placed the items in Mira's hands and wrapped her fingers around them.

"For your journey… the bread was freshly baked this morning." She smiled.

"Thank you." Mira said, accepting the food, and bowing her head at the fair maiden before her.

Eowyn nodded at her in return, and brushed away a stray piece of her pale golden hair that had fallen in front of her face.

Mira saw bits of her old self in the young maiden, who stood before her, a fire burned beneath her gentle front. Part of Mira longed to return to a simpler time, back when she had not seen so much war, and hatred. To be young again, like Eowyn, but she couldn't.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she envisioned the willow tree in the garden back home, _their_ willow tree. How she wished they had never left Minas Tirith that day. If she thought hard enough she could smell the musky, woodsy scent with a hint of steel that was entirely Edwin. Her arms felt cold without his warm embrace, her lips dry and lonely, and she found herself longing for it, for _him._ It could not be, however, for she could not change history, no matter how hard she wished. There was no magic that would take her back in time to change their fate.

Upon opening her eyes she could see Eowyn watching her with concern, and Mira offered her a weak smile.

The two had met shortly after her arrival, when Lady Eowyn knocked on the door of her small room, to offer 'Lenniel' some clean clothes to wear during her stay in Edoras.

The two young women had quickly bonded, they were different to be certain, yet very much the same.

Mira told Eowyn tales of her times in Gondor, being very careful with what she shared so as not to give anything away. In turn, she revelled in the tales Eowyn shared about the history of the Shieldmaidens of Rohan.

Mira almost slipped and admitted to Eowyn of her childhood dream of becoming the first Shieldmaiden of Gondor. Catching herself, she merely smiled fondly at the memory.

Lady Mirawen had quite enjoyed the younger girls company, back home, she did not know many women her own age. For the past few years her companions had been the Rangers of Ithilien, and the healers, of which there were few women.

Whenever the two women were alone, the King's advisor was not far off, watching their interactions in the shadows. It was not lost on her, that whenever she was alone it was one of his men trailing her, but when Lady Eowyn was present, it was Grima.

"I will miss your company Lenniel." Eowyn said sadly.

"And I you." Mira told her, smiling softly.

"Safe travels, my friend." Eowyn said, wrapping her arms around the older woman.

"Thank you." Mira said, returning the embrace, and her heart felt warm.

She would miss the woman, truly.

' _Eowyn will miss Lenniel, not_ _ **you**_ _.' Mira reminded herself_.

What would Eowyn think of her if she knew the truth about she was? Would she understand her reasons for keeping her identity secret? Or would all trust be lost between them? Did it even matter? Would they ever cross paths again anyway?

As she held onto her friend, she felt her stomach tighten. Mira loathed being stuck in this web of lies she had created.

' _It is for your protection.'_ She heard Faramir's voice remind her, though it did not lessen the sting any.

A mop of greasy black hair hiding in the shadows caught her eye. It was Grima, silently watching their exchange. He was sneaky, and if it weren't for her keen senses she had picked up from her years in the wilderness, he would have remained unnoticed by her.

' _Surely even in our farewells he can not give us peace.'_ Mira thought bitterly. She would not miss his ugly mug.

She had been summoned to the Golden Hall earlier yesterday evening, where Grima had informed her that the King had reached decision. He would allow her to continue on her travels, and Lord Eomer and his Eored would accompany her to the borders.

King Theoden, was not present at their meeting, allegedly he had taken ill, which left Mirawen feeling wary.

" _The King wishes you safe travels, Lenniel."_ Grima had said condescendingly. " _I do hope you make it to your father in time."_

" _I thank you most kindly Grima, please extend my gratitude to King Theoden for his warm hospitality."_ Mirawen had said, not letting on her suspicions to the King's absence, and bowed her head to the man.

"Farewell, Eowyn." Mirawen said, lowering her voice she whispered into the young girls hair so only she could hear. "Take care of yourself Eowyn, especially around Grima, I do not trust him… nor does your brother."

Eowyn lowered her arms, and stepped away from Mira, she nodded firmly at the woman a few years her senior.

"I will." She said assuredly, for she too, felt most uneasy around her King Uncle's advisor. "I hope fate brings us together again."

"As do I, my friend." Mira said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.

A cough broke out from behind the pair, and both women turned to see Lord Eomer. Eowyn ran off to hug her older brother, and bid him farewell. After he and his men had safely escorted Lenniel to the borders, Grima had ordered his eored, on behalf of the King, to investigate the rumor of attacks on the villages along the Northern reaches of Rohan.

The siblings parted, and Eomer informed her it was time to leave. She led Argo to the group of men and horses who would be her escort for the next few days. Mira hoped that she would be able to gain some ground on Boromir after this unwanted delay, though she knew hope was futile.

Calling orders out to his men, Eomer led his horse Firefoot to the front of the brigade, and they were off. As they exited the gates, Mirawen took one last look behind her into the city of Edoras.

Something caught her eye, and she turned her gaze upwards to the Golden Hall, where Grima stood watching them intensely.

Though she could not see his eyes, she knew his gaze was fixated on her, and it caused her to shudder. Mira turned her back to Grima, and rode up beside Lord Eomer, who had avoided when he could these past days in Edoras.

XXXX

Eomer felt guilty for delaying her journey, for he knew how important it was for her to reach her ailing father in time. He was ashamed for lying to her, he had promised to take her to the borders and instead tricked her into the King's Hall, which was more of a snake pit these days, where Grima, not his Uncle, had rule.

" _It is the law of the land."_ He reminded himself. " _If you did not abide by it, your life would be forfeit."_

His gaze found the girl in question, _no_ , she was no girl, she was a woman. The wind caused the stray pieces of red that fell from her braid to whip around her face.

Her features were quite soft, and he found his eyes drawn to her plump lips. He shook himself out of it, and turned his eyes ahead of him. He was an honourable man, and he would not allow himself to succumb to such thoughts.

Yet, there was something about Lenniel, something he could not put his finger on, some mystery, and he had hoped he would be able to figure her out before they parted.

He had watched her from afar, keeping his distance. Eomer watched her interact with his sister, and it warmed his heart to see his sister smile and hear her laughter. It had been too long that Lady Eowyn had smiled a genuine smile.

' _Perhaps…'_ He thought. ' _When her journey is over, she can return to Edoras.'_

He was certain that his Uncle could find a position for her in the city, it would be good for Eowyn to have a friend in the Golden Hall.

What the Third Marshal of the Riddermark could not admit to himself, was that he too, would enjoy having her around.

Lord Eomer sighed, knowing that it could not happen, as long as Grima remained in his position, his Uncle's judgment was clouded. It was not lost on him, that Grima had been keeping a close eye on Lenniel.

Though he had avoided her for most of the past week, unsure of what he would say after lying to her, he kept close enough to watch the men that the Wormtongue had ordered to follow her. He felt responsible, he was the one who brought her here after all, and he would be ready to jump in if need be.

Lenniel, however, was quite aware of the fact that she was being watched, and Eomer had to admire her cunning. She was alert, whenever she was alone, and never let on to Grima, or his men that she was aware of their presence. Yes, she played the aloof maiden card quite well.

He was broken from his thoughts when he heard a horse ride up beside him, and he turned to face the fair maiden who had been plaguing his thoughts as of late.

Lenniel looked at him with caution in her eyes, a fire blazed beneath the emerald pools. His brows furrowed as eyes locked on hers, and his stomach felt heavy.

"He watches her." Lenniel spoke quietly

Eomer, nodded stiffly.

He knew exactly of whom she spoke, for he had seen it to. He was aware his sister was a beautiful woman, who caught the eye of many men who were lucky to cross her path.

But Grima… the way he _watched_ her, stalking her in the shadows like a predator stalks its prey, that left him feeling unsettled.

He followed Lenniel's gaze back towards the city, where Grima stood watching them, before meeting her eyes once more.

XXXX

Grima stood at the edge of the courtyard that overlooked the village below Meduseld. From his vantage point he could see far beyond the walls of Edoras.

The corner of his lip turned up as he watched the riders and their guest, leaving through the city gates.

His plan was going smoothly thus far.

With Eomer now out of the city, it wouldn't be long before King Theoden was fully under Saruman's control.

The King's son, Theodred, and his men, had left several days ago, to patrol the southern borders. All it took was a few lies, and the King had ordered Eomer to take his men North. With both heirs to the throne of Rohan so far from Meduseld, it would be smooth sailing.

Saruman had promised Grima the hand of the Lady of Rohan, once the country fell, and it was all the motivation the Wormtongue needed to succeed. He was to manipulate and weaken the King's mind, giving Saruman control of Rohan.

Once Saruman's army was ready, he would attack

The girl, Lady Mirawen, had not originally been a part of his plan, and Saruman would be most pleased with him. It worked in his favor, that no one recognized the Steward's daughter.

' _Fools.'_ He thought, smirking to himself.

They all bought her little tale, the sad story of a girl travelling to meet her dying father, but _he_ , he saw right through her. Once Grima realized who she truly was, he began concocting his plan.

It had been his original intent, to keep her in Edoras for as long as he could, until she eventually spilled the truth, and he could imprison her.

Convincing the King that she was a spy sent by Denethor would be simple, but the girl would not slip, and he had to reevaluate.

Grima knew, if he could weaken the relations, and create a further tension between Gondor and Rohan, Saruman's victory would be inevitable, and Lady Eowyn was his prize.

Lady Mirawen, was the key.

He watched them for awhile, the great horde of beasts riding North. The moment they were out of sight, he summoned one his men, loyal to _him_ , forward.

"Ride forth to Minas Tirith, bring two men with you." Grima instructed. "I have a message of utmost importance for Lord Denethor, regarding his daughter."

Grima handed his henchman a sealed scroll, which he had written last night after meeting with the Lady of Gondor.

In it he had explained how his daughter had been caught travelling under an alias in their lands, and how, upon discovery, instead of sending her back to Minas Tirith with an escort, the King had let her continue on her journey.

Reaching into the pocket of his robe, he pulled out three pendants, bearing the white hand of Saruman.

"Take these so there is no trouble for you in the road." He said coyly, knowing that orcs would leave his men alone once they saw the White Wizards sigil. "It takes three days to ride to Minas Tirith, I expect your return in no more than seven."

"We will not stop until the message is in Lord Denethor's hands." He said, his henchman bowed his head, and was off.

As Grima watched his three men ride off in the opposite direction of Eomer and his riders, his sinister smile grew.

Whatever assault Saruman had planned against the people of Rohan, Gondor would not be responding to any calls for aid.

Turning on his heel, he retreated into the Golden Hall feeling smug, the train of his black cloak slithering behind him.

XXXX

 **A/N:** _That sneaky sneaky Grima…_

 _How will the rest of Mira's journey to Rivendell go? I wonder how Boromir will react once she catches up to him, will she catch up to him?_

 _Stay tuned…_

 _Hope you enjoyed this chapter, as always, reviews are appreciated._

 _Until next time,_

 _-Buttercup_


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